The Phantom of the Opera
by Shinji Shazaki
Summary: A tale, once regarded as legend, finally revealed in its entirety. In the catacombs of the Paris Opera House dwells the Phantom of the Opera, who waits for the sweet song and the love of the ingenue soprano.  StarfireXRaven.  Complete.
1. Prologue

The Phantom of the Opera: Prologue

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: To define this story, it is a blending of Leroux's novel, Webber's musical, and my own ideas. If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

—Paris, 1919—

The man was elderly, but not at all touched by the crippling effects so often seen by the old. He strode down the street with purpose, the walking stick he carried clicking sharply against the cobblestones. He rounded a corner and stepped onto the broad avenue, his eyes turning before his body.

The Paris Opera House—that great building known the world over—stood at the end of the avenue. His chest tightened painfully, both at the sight of the building and from his age. Swallowing forcefully, he started down the avenue. His imposing stature spoke of the bearing of nobility, and he never had to dodge about or stop suddenly. Those who bothered to look at the man with long white hair saw the embroidered patch upon the left side of his coat, and hastened to move out his way that much faster.

A banner strung across the two pillars at the entrance to the Opera House fluttered in a faint breeze. The man read the words on the banner, translating the French with an ease that belied his years away in America: "Public Auction Today." He walked up the steps, relying more strongly on his walking stick than ever.

The strike of the auctioneer's gavel echoed from the stage as the man strode into the theater. Everything was immaculate, without a hint of dirt or decay anywhere. The only thing that hinted of the Opera House very quietly acquiring new owners after years of emptiness was the auction itself. Hired hands took away a plaster carving, the most recent of the items sold to the small crowd gathered on the stage.

"Sold!" the auctioneer cried. "Thank you, Monsieur de Morcerf." He looked up at the sound of the man's walking stick tapping sharply on the stage, instantly recognizing the patch on his coat. "Ah, le Comte de Wayne! Here for the auction, I hope?" The man nodded, and the auctioneer's smile grew. "Good, good! Now, item number six-sixty-four in our auction today." A hired hand brought forward a laden platter. "From a production of _Robert le Diable_, three polished human skulls and a wooden pistol."

The confirmation that the white skulls were not plaster made all but two of the small crowd wince. The Count was one of these two, and the other was an elderly black woman. Their eyes met, and they did not start in surprise despite the fact that they recognized each other. The woman nodded to the Count, and he gracefully returned it.

"May we start the bidding at, say, ten francs?" the auctioneer asked. The woman's hand went up as she nodded. "Madame Stone, thank you! Am I bid fifteen francs?" He cast his eyes about, but only found shaking heads. He hid his disappointment and lifted his gavel. "Ten once—ten twice—sold! Thank you, Madame Stone." The man carried away the platter before the strike of the gavel had stopped echoing, and another came forward carrying something covered by a silk handkerchief.

"We have now come to the last item in our auction, ladies and gentlemen!" he said loudly. He paused and cleared his throat, leaning on the podium before him purposefully. "Now, you all know of the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, do you not?" A soft murmur of assent rippled through the small gathering. The Count started, turning to stare eagerly at the silk handkerchief. "Well, we have here something that proves the Phantom was not just a myth."

He reached over and lifted the silk handkerchief up. A carefully crafted white mask, one that would have covered the eyes and forehead, was revealed lying on a silver platter. The Count's eyes went wide, and he was unable to turn his gaze away. The auctioneer grinned broadly, standing straight and puffing out his chest.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the very mask that the Phantom wore!" he said. "It was discovered in the catacombs beneath the Opera House, after the famous incident involving the lovely soprano and her disappearance. May we start the bidding at thirty francs?"

The Count's hand went up immediately. The auctioneer smiled at him. "Thirty, from le Comte de Wayne! Do I hear thirty-five?" Madame Stone's hand rose with a small nod. "Thirty-five! Thank you, Madame! Am I bid forty francs?" The Count lifted his hand again, glancing to Madame Stone quickly. "Forty francs! Forty-five?" Madame Stone looked at the Count, seeing the fire in his eyes. She smiled at him and shook her head. "Selling for forty once—forty twice—sold, to le Comte de Wayne! Thank you so _very_ much, Monsieur."

The hired hand started to take the mask away, but the Count struck his walking stick against the ground and gestured for the young man to bring it to him. He took the mask from the platter and waved the young man away. The Count put his stick under one arm and held the mask in shaking hands. His fingers caressed the curves of the mask, and he bit the inside of his cheek. When the auctioneer spoke again, the Count realized that he had drawn blood.

"Thank you so much for coming today, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "The new owners of the Opera House would like to show you their gratitude by giving you a preview of how they plan to bring this wonderful place back to its former glory. Gentlemen!" In the center of the theater sat a massive shape covered with a cloth tarp. At the auctioneer's behest, the men standing by the tarp pulled it away to reveal a chandelier.

"This," the auctioneer said, "is the chandelier that caused the death of one very unfortunate woman during the time that the Phantom ruled the Opera. It was hidden away for years because of this disaster, but because the new owners found that it was a truly great wonderful piece of art, they restored it and fitted it with those new electric lights. And now, ladies and gentlemen, we shall raise the chandelier!" He gestured, and the hired hands began to pull at ropes and chains.

The Count watched the chandelier rise up toward the ceiling. Light flooded the theater, showing him every statue carved from stone and wood and every tassel on the drapery hanging in every private box. The red velvet looked that much more like the color of blood and fire when the light shone upon it. The fresh gold paint seemed to glow, and the brightness of it made his eyes ache. His breath came faster as he looked about, and his chest was tight as he quickly made his way out of the theater.

He stopped on the front steps of the Paris Opera House, leaning heavily on his walking stick and pulling in deep breaths. Wiping away a cold sweat from his brow, he looked again at the mask in his hand. He scowled, wanting to dash the thing against the ground.

"Been a long time, Robin." He whirled to find Madame Stone standing behind him. She smiled at him, but he did not return it.

"I suppose it has been," he replied. "You were—they called you Bumblebee when you were a dancer here, didn't they?"

"They did," she said with a nod. "Victor still calls me that. You remember Victor?"

"As well as I remember everything else," he murmured. After a moment, sighed and nodded to the woman. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Madame Stone. Please, give Victor my regards." He turned away from her and started to walk away.

----------

There is nothing more fascinating to humanity than a story. It is fortunate that there are those who can tap into the well of imagination from a creative soul and craft stories, because it is so rare for great stories to come from reality. In Paris, however, long before le Comte de Wayne purchased the mask of the Phantom of the Opera at the auction, one such tale did occur.

It is the tale of the Phantom of the Opera and the young soprano who captured the Phantom's heart completely. It is the tale of a young man who yearned for the soprano despite the Phantom's love for her. It is a great tale, once that has been repeated so many times that it has become such stuff of legends and myths. There is only one failing of the story that has been told over and over, whispered amongst children and adults alike. No one knows how the tale truly ends.

It is common knowledge that both the soprano and the Phantom vanished, never to been seen or heard from again, but it remains a mystery what transpired on that fateful night when they disappeared. Many things about the soprano and the Phantom remain a mystery—but no longer. This tale is not a bare-bones repetition of the myth. No, this story—the words that are written here and now—this story is the absolute and entire truth of the Phantom of the Opera.

—_to be continued—_


	2. Chapter 1

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

—Paris, 1870—

The Paris Opera House was at the height of its prosperity. Queues went round the block when the box office opened to sell tickets. The wealthy and the nobility snatched up the expensive boxes, leaving the middle class to occupy the ground seats. Stellar reviews came from every show that was put on, with criticisms few and far between.

It was fairly strange that two young men would step from a carriage and look upon the Opera House with a decidedly proprietary eye when there was already an owner firmly in place. Nevertheless, the two young men did emerge from their carriage and gaze at the Opera House proudly as they walked up the front steps. An older man met them at the front door. The man's hair was white, and cropped elegantly short. He stood in an impeccable black suit, his arms held behind his back. A patch covered his right eye, but the two young men said nothing.

"Monsieur Slade!" the smaller of the two young men said cheerfully. He reached out and took the man's hand, shaking it vigorously. "It's great to see you again!" Slade's faint frown lessened slightly as the young men released his hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Monsieur Logan," he murmured.

"You might as well call him Beast Boy," the larger of the duo said in a rumbling, low voice. "Everyone else does."

"Shall I refer to you as Cyborg, then?" Slade asked wryly.

The duo could not have been more different. The smaller man was officially named Garfield Logan, but had been dubbed Beast Boy early in his twenty-five-year-old life. Though this nickname was largely due to his distinct connection to animals of all kinds, his appearance did play a part. His dark hair and skin had bizarre green tints to them, which made him look as though constantly on the verge of being sick. His ears were pointed, and his eyeteeth were unusually sharp. He was a cheerful fellow, quick to throw out a joke, no matter how lackluster.

The larger was a black man named Victor Stone, but he was known as Cyborg for his more unique features. He had been involved in many skirmishes and battles in his thirty years, the end result being the loss of an arm and a leg. While most people would simply go with the most basic of solutions and prosthetics—peg legs or learning to live without an arm—Victor had not been content. He was a mechanical wizard, creating a hinged leg that bent at the false knee and a passably human arm and a hand that could grip when properly manipulated. There were rumors that he hid a weapon of some kind in his false arm.

"Enough with the formalities!" Beast Boy laughed. "Give us the grand tour already!" Slade paused, looking about with his one blue eye. After a moment, he nodded and turned crisply on one heel.

"I suppose our new patron will have to find us inside," he said. "Follow me, gentlemen." He led them through the front door. The massive lobby was filled with the women employed to clean the Opera House. They scrubbed furiously at the marble floor, spots they had already cleaned polished to a mirror-like shine. Those that were not on their knees bowed low to the three gentlemen that passed by. The sounds of music and singing rang out from the theater, and Slade guided the two young men through the side passages that led to the stage.

"We have been hard at work rehearsing a new production of _Hannibal_ for tonight's gala," he explained. "I am quite confident that you will find everything here perfect." He stepped to one side suddenly. Cyborg imitated him, but Beast Boy did not move quickly enough. He was nearly knocked from his feet as a girl tried to run by him and hit his side with her shoulder. She tried to stop immediately, but slid forward a bit further on her soft ballet slippers.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped. Beast Boy steadied himself and looked up, fully prepared to accept the apology. He saw the girl—took in the sight of her long blonde hair and large blue eyes—and froze, his jaw hanging. She stared at his open mouth before reaching out and lifting his jaw with her hand.

"Mademoiselle Terra," Slade murmured. She looked at the man, bowing and smiling. "Aren't you late for rehearsal? Madame Dolan does not take tardiness lightly." The softly spoken words made the blood first drain from her face, and then flush her cheeks.

"Yes, Monsieur Slade," she said quickly. She turned and curtseyed to Beast Boy. "Sorry." She rushed away, her skirts flapping around her skinny legs.

"Who—who was that?" Beast Boy croaked.

"Terra," Slade answered. "One of the girls who live and study here under Madame Dolan."

"She's beautiful," Beast Boy whispered. Cyborg ignored the faraway look in his companion's eyes, clearing his throat loudly.

"You said Madame Dolan?" he asked.

"I may officially run the Paris Opera House," Slade said with a chuckle, "but Madame Kei Dolan is the one who makes our productions work. I merely pay the bills." They strode into the vast area of backstage, walking under level upon level laden with set pieces, actors, and stagehands. Slade would receive and return waves of acknowledgement and cries of greeting, and Beast Boy and Cyborg returned the curious looks they received with smiles and nods.

Slade stopped them when they stood in the wings of stage left, gesturing for the young men to draw close to him. They watched as a woman with astonishingly pink hair took center stage. She held up a severed head made of hollow plaster. Red liquid dripped convincingly from its neck, and the woman took in a deep breath.

"This trophy from our saviors," she sang out, "from the enslaving force of Rome!" The chorus advanced from upstage, the female portion singing loudly. In the orchestra pit, an older man with his white hair swept stylistically back conducted the musicians. He smiled sweetly at the woman standing in center stage, nodding and rocking on his toes in time with the beat.

Girls, wrapped in the costume of the slave, danced and pranced amidst those men dressed as soldiers and women in celebratory gowns. Beast Boy struggled to keep himself from waving at Terra when he saw her on stage, and Cyborg's curiosity was piqued when he saw a lovely young black woman. A girl with long, lusciously red hair remained in step despite the lost look in her bright green eyes. Slade saw where their gazes were directed and smirked.

"I see that you've noticed Madame Dolan's prize pupils," he said quietly. "You've already met Terra." He gestured to the black girl. "And that one has earned the nickname of Bumblebee in the dormitories." The girl noticed Slade and his companions, smiling brightly. Cyborg blushed and nodded at her. "But the favorite is Mademoiselle Starfire." He indicated the red-haired young woman.

"Starfire?" Beast Boy asked. "That's an odd name."

"No stranger than Madame Dolan's nickname, my good monsieur," Slade replied.

"And that would be?" Cyborg inquired.

"Chaos," Slade said simply. "The girls say that she keeps anarchy away from the theater, but then—young women rarely have astounding logic."

"Did their logic bring about miss Starfire's name?" Beast Boy asked.

"No, that was Madame Dolan's work. When the young lady was first brought here fifteen years ago—I believe she was only five years old—she couldn't speak a word of anything but her native tongue. Madame Dolan knew the language and taught the girl French. Her name, which only Madame Dolan is sure of how to pronounce properly, translates into Starfire."

The young men nodded as the chorus gave a final, resounding cry of, "Hannibal comes!" Before the conductor could tap his baton against the music stand and begin the next piece, a woman clapped her hands twice. She had been standing in the wings of stage right, unseen by the trio of men. She strode forward onto the stage. The conductor climbed from the orchestra pit, advancing on her.

"Chaos!" he snapped irritably. "Why are you stopping the rehearsal? I thought we agreed that this would be a full-run! Mademoiselle Jinx requested it specifically!" He smiled at the pink-haired woman, and she nodded to him without returning the smile.

"Your prima donna can wait, Monsieur le Blood," Chaos said with a smirk. "Monsieur Slade has been waiting patiently." She waved the aforementioned man forward, and he strode to meet her in center stage.

"Thank you, Madame Dolan," Slade said. "Monsieur le Blood, forgive me for interrupting." The conductor snorted and waved his baton. "Ladies, gentlemen—I know there have been rumors floating about regarding my retirement. There is nothing I regret more than my having to say that these rumors are true."

A great moan swelled out of the throats of most of those within earshot. The pink-haired woman, Jinx, merely nudged the side of the man standing dressed as Hannibal. Slade lifted his hands to bring about quiet.

"I would like to introduce to you your new managers," he said. He turned and beckoned the two young men forward. "Monsieur Garfield Logan, and Monsieur Victor Stone." Scattered applause rang out as the two young men bowed and nodded. "I would also like to introduce our new patron, but he—"

"Was running late." A young man with black hair and bright eyes jogged nimbly out from the wings. On the left breast of his black suit jacket was a patch embroidered with the shape of a bat. He stopped alongside Slade, holding out his hand to Cyborg and Beast Boy.

"Ah, Vicomte!" Slade said with a laugh. "Gentlemen, this is le Vicomte de Wayne: Richard Grayson."

"Please, call me Robin," the young man said. Cyborg reached out and took his hand.

"Only if you call me Cyborg," he chuckled. Beast Boy took his hand in turn.

"Beast Boy for me, thanks!" he said. "Le Vicomte de Wayne, huh? Didn't know that Bruce Wayne had a son."

"Only a ward," Robin replied. "Monsieur Slade—you were in the middle of introductions?"

"Indeed I was. Messieurs Logan and Stone, this is Monsieur le Blood, our conductor." The old man strode forward and bowed at the waist. He wore a black suit, the collar high and hiding all of his neck.

"If I may, sir, I would like to introduce our leads," he said simply. "Mademoiselle Jinx." The pink-haired woman walked forward and held her hand out to Robin. He gracefully kissed her knuckles, and she gave him the faintest of smiles. "Mademoiselle Jinx has been our leading soprano for five seasons now, and Monsieur Malchior our tenor." The man dressed as Hannibal came forward. He wore his hair long, and it was a strange silver color despite his thirty-five years. He nodded, a small frown marring his otherwise handsome face.

"_Thank_ _you_, Monsieur le Blood," Slade murmured. The softness of his voice belied the sharpness of his words, and Blood frowned and closed his mouth. "Messieurs, allow me to introduce Madame Kei Dolan." The tall woman strode forward, and the three young men could not help but jerk in shock.

Her hair was black as ink, and shaggily cut. She wore tight black breeches, with an equally black shirt hanging free. The long sleeves of her shirt were loose, and the collar open almost scandalously wide. The real shock, however, was in her face. Thin lines on her right cheek met to form a cross, and blood-red eyes looked out from above a sharp-toothed smile. She held out her hand, and her fingernails were finely pointed. Robin took her hand and shook it, forcing himself to smile.

"I must beg your forgiveness for a final time," Slade said. "My train is, unfortunately, scheduled to leave within the hour, and I cannot miss it. Messieurs Logan and Stone, good luck. Ladies and gentlemen—_au revoir_." He bowed low, striding away amidst tumultuous applause and cheers. Robin followed him quickly, putting his arm around the older man's shoulders and speaking to him in a low voice.

"May we return to the rehearsal?" Blood demanded the moment the applause died away. "Unless our new managers have any special requests of us?" Beast Boy bent at the waist, smiling brightly at Jinx.

"I was hoping to hear that wonderful aria sung by Elissa in Act Three," he said. Jinx smirked and shrugged, combing her fingers through her hair.

"If my managers command it," she murmured. "Monsieur le Blood?"

"My diva." He went quickly to the orchestra pit, turning his focus to the young man at the piano. Two bars were played as an introduction, and Jinx began to sing.

"_Think of me,  
think of me fondly,  
when we've said  
goodbye._"

The catwalks and upper levels of the Paris Opera House were crafted of fine wood. During performances, stagehands were forced to take extra care that their footfalls would not interfere with the sound of the music or the singers' voices. At that moment, with no pride but Jinx's at stake, the men and women had little interest to remain quiet. They milled about and muttered amongst themselves, alternately laughing and wincing at the notes Jinx missed.

Even if there had been utter silence in the theater, none would have heard the footsteps that came to a stop above the singing woman.

"_Remember me  
once in a while—  
please promise me  
you'll try._"

Ears far sharper than most heard the failings in Jinx's song. There was certainly strength in her voice. One did not become a five-season veteran of the Paris Opera House without learning how to produce a powerful voice. Despite the strength, there were imperfections. She would miss notes, rising too high or dropping too low in her misguided and overpowering urge for showmanship.

"_When you find…_"

That the pink-headed little fool would be allowed to squawk and pose like the peacock she was while a truly great voice was stifled and silenced was infuriating.

"_That, once  
again, you long…_"

Such a travesty was maddening. A bright red glow cut through the shadows, only unnoticed because the eyes the light flowed from were narrowed in rage.

"_To take your heart—_"

The prima donna's song was cut off by terrified shrieks from the ballet girls. She spun about in an attempt to discover what caused the screams. A backdrop crashed down on top of her, slamming her petite frame to the stage. As Jinx lay stunned, Malchior cried out and tried to lift the heavy backdrop.

"Mademoiselle!" Blood gasped. He dropped his baton and climbed onto the stage, joining in Malchior's fruitless attempts to free the woman.

"It's the ghost!" The ballet girls were utterly frantic, bouncing on their feet and grabbing at each other while shrieking the same thing: "It's the ghost!" Beast Boy and Cyborg tried to call the theater back to order, but their voices were lost amidst the noise of the girls and the two men trying to rescue Jinx.

"ENOUGH!" Chaos's booming command rang through the theater. The ballet girls fell silent and clustered together as Chaos strode swiftly forward. She took hold of one of the slack ropes connected to the backdrop. Wrapping the rope around one arm and taking it in both hands, she said, "You two take the other end!"

Blood and Malchior, so desperate to liberate Jinx from beneath the heavy thing, immediately did as she said. They grabbed hold of the other slack rope and heaved. The backdrop rose up, and Starfire ran to pull the stunned Jinx away. The young woman's touch seemed a stimulant, and Jinx scrambled to her feet. She slapped Starfire's hands away, turning to look into the upper levels. Her cheeks became lividly red, as though they had been struck forcefully. When a figure appeared, she pulled in a massive breath.

"MAMMOTH!" she screamed. The figure jumped, and the light revealed a humongous man. His face showed no real intelligence, and his blond hair was long and unkempt. He looked about, eyes widening when he saw the fallen backdrop. In an instant he was winding a gear, and the backdrop was lifted up and away. Stagehands worked furiously to secure it, and the man leaned over the railing to look down at the stage.

"What were you _doing_ up there?" Jinx howled. "I swear to God, if you were drinking, I'll throw you in the river!" Mammoth cringed, unable to answer.

"Mademoiselle, please!" Cyborg said nervously.

"Calm down! Accidents happen!" Beast Boy paled at the fury in the glare Jinx gave to him. All those familiar with the woman shrank back, preparing themselves for what came an instant later.

"I will _not_ calm down!" she bellowed. "I don't care if accidents happen! _These_ accidents have been happening for three years! I thought that if that idiot Slade was gone, my new managers would stop this damned 'Opera Ghost!'"

"Mademoiselle, please!" Cyborg said again.

"No!" Jinx snapped. "No, no, no! I am sick and tired of this! Unless you get rid of this 'Ghost,' I'll not sing for you!" She stormed away, still red in the face. Faster than anyone expected of a woman in full costume, she was off the stage and out of sight. Her furious voice echoed back for a final shriek of, "Malchior!" The man looked at the managers with a sneer before striding away.

Blood gave a weak moan at their leaving, turning to press his forehead against the nearest support beam. Beast Boy and Cyborg stared at each other a moment before looking frantically about.

"Madame Dolan?" Cyborg asked. The woman in black was gone, and her absence made Beast Boy pale even more. He let out a long, low moan, which quickly grew into a frustrated shout.

"Where did Monsieur Slade go?" he demanded.

"China, monsieur," Terra said softly. Beast Boy choked, a tic developing in the muscles near his eyes.

"China?" Cyborg asked. "_China?_"

"Mademoiselle Jinx is going to come back, right?" Beast Boy wrung his gloves in his hands until they were wrinkled and unfit to wear. His eyes were wide when the nervous tic in his muscles did not make his eyelids twitch. "Right?"

"I doubt it, monsieur." The men looked up quickly as Chaos strode onto the stage. She carried in her hand an letter, already open. The red wax seal had come away in one piece, hanging from the flap of the envelope. Chaos's eyes remained on the letter, though she addressed the men. "No one can bring back the little prima donna when she gets in a fit like this. Besides, I have a note for you from the Opera Ghost."

"God in heaven!" Cyborg cried, his patience wearing thin. "You're all obsessed!" Chaos chuckled, holding the letter out. Cyborg took it in his hands, holding it before his eyes. The paper was solid black, and the letters were cut out cleanly in the shape of elegantly written cursive script.

"She welcomes you to her Opera," Chaos murmured.

"What makes you think that it's a woman?" Beast Boy asked, his eyes narrow and suspicious.

"Every time the girls tell me they've seen the Ghost, they say that the Ghost is a woman," she replied with a shrug. Beast Boy looked to Terra, frowning slightly at the nod she gave him.

"Well this woman is demanding that we leave Box Five empty for her," Cyborg muttered. "But what on earth does she mean by her 'salary?'"

"Monsieur Slade gave her fifty thousand francs a month."

"Fifty _thousand_?" Beast Boy snatched the letter from Cyborg's hands, scanning its contents. He saw the number and whimpered.

"Le Vicomte de Wayne is your patron now," Chaos said, nodding at the young man who stood utterly bewildered. "Fifty thousand would be nothing." Cyborg frowned and took back the letter. For a moment, he remained calm. When the moment ended, he began to rip the letter apart.

"This—is—insane!" he snarled, tearing the paper with each word. "We're not going to pay off this lunatic!"

"But Jinx won't come back if we don't do something to keep her safe!" Beast Boy protested.

"Who is the understudy?" Cyborg asked. Blood, who had been rather limp and dazed in his place leaning against a beam, stiffened and turned slowly about.

"How _dare_ you!" he hissed. "How dare you insult Mademoiselle Jinx by suggesting that any one of these people can hope to equal her voice!"

"Starfire can sing the part." Chaos's simple statement made Blood flush from his neck to his hairline. He sputtered for a moment, trying to think of how to respond to such an insult. Chaos smirked at him and turned to Cyborg and Beast Boy. "She's been taking lessons."

"From whom?" Cyborg asked. Starfire swallowed and looked at her feet.

"I don't know," she murmured. Beast Boy groaned again, burying his face in his hands.

"We have to cancel a full house!" he moaned through his fingers. "A full house!"

"Let's at least hear her first," Cyborg muttered, shrugging his shoulders. "Monsieur le Blood." The older man closed his mouth and let out a hard breath through his nose. He shot the young woman a furious glare, but turned on heel and went back to the orchestra pit.

"From the top of the aria, then," he grumbled. "Two bars introduction." He continued to mutter under his breath for a few moments more. Starfire turned to face the empty amphitheater, swallowing again. Blood began to conduct halfheartedly, but the young man played the piano just as well as he had done for Jinx. Beast Boy and Cyborg gave each other weary, worried glances. Starfire glanced to Chaos, pulling in a deep breath when the black-haired woman nodded with a smile. The introduction ended, and Starfire began to sing.

"_Think of me,  
think of me fondly,  
when we've said  
goodbye._"

It was unlike anything heard before in the Paris Opera House. The young men and women, unfamiliar with the great heights music could reach, were absolutely entranced.

"_Remember me  
once in a while—  
please promise  
me you'll try._"

Even the veterans of the great place were amazed by the young woman's voice. She was an angel come to earth, somehow managing to put everything ethereal and beautiful in the confines of a sweet soprano's song.

"_When you find  
that, once  
again, you long  
to take your heart back  
and be free—_"

The red glow in the shadows faded away. Dark eyes watched and sharp ears listened, breath unable to be drawn while Starfire sang. The song carried everything else in the world away, leaving only its divine beauty.

"_If you  
ever find  
a moment,  
spare a thought  
for me…_"

The eyes closed, and a smile appeared.

—_to be continued—_


	3. Chapter 2

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 2

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

The premiere gala was nothing short of a resounding success. Paris was enchanted by the young soprano, Starfire. They cheered for every song she sang that night. They gave her a standing ovation for her incredible performance of the beautiful aria, but all those who had heard her sing agreed that there was no earthly praise high enough to give her.

When the opera ended and the house rang with the sounds of cheers, applause, and all other forms of praise, she burst into joyous tears, collapsing in the arms of her two friends Bumblebee and Terra. From his place sharing the box of Cyborg and Beast Boy, Robin rushed away to get to the stage before the curtain had fallen. Despite his best efforts, everywhere he went was flooded with people. As custom proclaimed they could, the frequent visitors to the Paris Opera House—the subscribers, they were called—were clambering about in every nook and cranny to chat with the singers, dancers, stagehands, and the managers.

Robin tried to push past the small crowd of people that rushed at him. They in turn shoved him aside in a mad rush to congratulate the managers, who had followed the young viscount from their box, on their discovery of Starfire. He dodged by the groups of men speaking in loud voices and promising to meet later to drink. Graciously he bowed to the clouds of young women he passed, but he did not slow his pace.

"Where is Mademoiselle Starfire?" he asked every person he could pull away from their conversation about the aforementioned diva. No one was certain where the young woman was. When he went away, they would laugh at him, the young man so obviously and completely spellbound. He bumped into Chaos and begged an answer, but she only said that the young woman needed to rest.

The answer, though less than truly informative, gave him direction enough. Robin made his way toward the dressing rooms, scanning the cracks along the seams of the doors for any sign of Starfire. After finding darkness in every place he looked, he came at last to the last dressing room at the end of a hall. It was one of the largest dressing rooms, reserved for the female lead of the current piece being performed.

Light poured out from under the door, and Robin heard faint murmuring through the door. He drew close, leaning as close as he could to the shut door without actually pressing his ear against the wood.

"I—I sang for you tonight." He instantly recognized Starfire's voice. It was a soft, nervous whisper laced with hope.

"No one has ever received a finer gift." The second voice was unfamiliar. It was just as soft as Starfire's whisper, but held a power that unaccountably drove needles into his skin. He could not tell if it was a man or a woman who spoke, but he instantly loathed the voice and its owner. "Heaven and its angels wept tonight."

"Then—you must have wept as well?" Starfire's gentle question was followed by a low chuckle from the other voice.

"It's growing late. Pray for your family, and when you return, I will sing for you." A moment later, the door was thrown open. Robin had to leap backwards to keep from being struck in the face. He briefly saw the young woman running away—still in costume—before she turned a corner. Scowling, he glanced about and strode into the dressing room.

He searched every nook and cranny, every dark corner of the lavishly furnished room. He crouched down to check under the desk and the table, kneeling down to look beneath the chairs. Hanging draperies and ornamental tapestries were moved aside in his search for the voice, which yielded less than nothing. No one was there.

----------

"So you worked in the junk business?"

"Scrap metal." Bumblebee and Terra laughed at the insistent protest. Beast Boy blushed darkly as Cyborg joined in their laughter. He cleared his throat and held his head high. "We made an excellent profit, but when we heard that the Paris Opera House was going up for sale, we couldn't resist such an opportunity."

"You came here for the money?" Bumblebee demanded.

"I'm staying because there's real beauty here," Cyborg said. He smiled at Bumblebee, who flushed prettily and smiled in return.

"Well, so am I!" Beast Boy said quickly. He grinned at Terra, whose returning smile made his cheeks burn. "And it's a good thing that there's something to keep me here. I've got a bigger dream than money."

"Oh, Lord, not this again," Cyborg groaned.

"What?" the other three asked—Beast Boy indignantly, and the young women curiously.

"He wants to—_you_ tell them," the larger man muttered.

"I've heard about putting special engines inside carriages," Beast Boy explained. "They'd move the carriage around, and there'd be a way to steer and drive the carriage without horses."

"You want to make those?" Bumblebee asked.

"Not quite." He puffed his chest out and tugged importantly at the lapels of his jacket. "I'd like to put an engine in a bicycle. I'd call it—the moped!"

"That's the stupidest name I've ever heard," Cyborg and Bumblebee said in unison. Beast Boy slumped slightly.

"That sounds incredible!" Terra said excitedly. He immediately regained his confidence.

"What I'd really like to call it is the B-ped," he said. "You know—after it's creator?" Terra nodded in understanding, and Beast Boy grinned. He took in a breath to begin an in-depth explanation.

"Terra! Bumblebee!" He bit his tongue in surprise as Chaos strode toward the small group. The young women looked to their teacher, knowing that their immediate attention was required. "It's gotten late. Go and get Starfire." The young women nodded and scurried away. Feeling a blending of happiness and disappointment, the young men watched them go.

"Didn't you take her to her dressing room?" Cyborg asked.

"She'll have left there anyway," Chaos replied. "There's a place here that a person can pray for the soul of a deceased loved one. Starfire has two to pray for." She started to turn away, but paused. Abruptly, she held out a hand. Cyborg took hold of it with his living hand, feeling the strength of her grip as she laid her other hand over his and shook. "Congratulations, gentlemen. You've allowed a great talent to take wing." She walked away, vanishing amidst the people still milling about.

Beast Boy looked to Cyborg, but the older man shook his head. There was no need to speak of the strangeness they both clearly sensed.

----------

The room was filled with candles, but very few of the candles were lit. The braziers burning in the corridor beyond the door supplied most of the dim light in the room. Starfire picked up a small splinter of wood and held it in the fire of another candle. Guarding the tiny flame with her hand, she lit two other candles. When the candles were burning, she blew out the splinter and knelt down.

Every candle was accompanied by a piece of stone. On the stone was etched the name of a single person who had died. The stones did not speak of the cause of the person's death or when or where they died. Tombstones and their trite sayings and labels were left in the graveyards they belonged in. This room in the Paris Opera House was for simple prayers, and it was to give simple prayers that Starfire knelt with her head bowed and her eyes closed.

The two candles she had lit flickered and illuminated the names carved into the stones. The names were written in her native tongue. It had been no small feat, considering the duality of the script. There were tight angles that flowed immediately into gentle arcs all within the same character. The old man who carved all the memorial stones for the Opera House had balked at the request of keeping the names in such a strange script, instead suggesting that the names be translated to French.

At that time, still only five years old and still learning this foreign if lovely language, Starfire was barely able to comprehend the suggestion. When it was explained to her, she nearly burst into tears. The name of her sister could be translated to Blackfire, but her father's name had no equivalent beyond how the spoken name sounded. The request of an impossible task utterly boggled the young girl's mind.

A child's natural selfishness came into play as well to create her tears. Her family was gone, killed off by old age and sickness, and all she wanted was their memory to remain as she knew it. Tears rolling down her face, she had been led from the carver's shop. Sniffing mightily, the little girl had looked up at Chaos. The tall woman had wiped away her tears and promised to carve the stones herself.

With her prayers finished, Starfire looked at the stones, smiling at the perfectly written names. She lingered for a moment, savoring the coolness and the quiet of the small stone room.

"Starfire!" She started at the call of her name, recognizing the unified voices of her two friends. They appeared in the doorway, bright smiles on their faces. Terra scurried in first, kneeling down and taking Starfire's hands.

"You were wonderful!" she said. "I can't believe how good you were!"

"You were awful a few months ago," Bumblebee remarked.

"Stop that!" Terra said with a frown. Bumblebee smirked and laughed, and Terra's expression softened when she saw the humble smile on Starfire's face. She grew excited suddenly, squeezing Starfire's hands. "Who's been teaching you?"

"If they can turn you into a little angel in five months, just think of what they could do with Mademoiselle Bad Luck," Bumblebee muttered. They shared a quick, quiet giggle at the fitting nickname. Long ago, when they were still mere adolescents beginning to learn how to dance, there had been cautionary stories told by the older girls. These stories always involved Jinx and any person who dared to usurp or upstage her in any way. While there was no claiming of responsibility like the Opera Ghost was wont to do, the accidents and tragedies that befell these usurpers could logically be linked to Jinx.

"It is—appropriate—that you speak of angels," Starfire murmured. "Years ago, my father told my sister and I stories of the Angel of Music." She smiled the brightest smile that either of the young women had ever seen. "The Angel of Music has visited me." Silence followed this simple statement, broken only by the sound of the flickering candles.

"What?" Terra asked in a whisper. Before Starfire could answer, Bumblebee spoke up.

"Explain on the way," she said. "Madame Dolan wants you back upstairs." Truthfully, she was just as intrigued as Terra was by Starfire's proclamation. In much the same way, Terra was equally as driven to follow the command they had been given. They had been given their lives of relative luxury and real happiness by Chaos.

She had taken both girls from the streets and brought them to the Opera House, and they had instantly fallen in love with the great place and the professions therein. In return for their basic obedience during lessons and good behavior, Chaos let them essentially run free. Such an arrangement was more than agreeable, and they were happy to follow it. For that reason, they each took one of Starfire's arms and lifted her to her feet.

"Do you believe that it's the spirit of your father?" Terra asked.

"No," Starfire replied dreamily. "The Angel has a woman's voice."

"Your sister?" Bumblebee asked.

"No—my sister could not sing so beautifully." Starfire sighed wistfully, and her smile wavered. "My sister was not such a good friend as the Angel of Music is." Her smile regained its strength as she thought of her angel. Unsure of what to say, Terra and Bumblebee walked behind their friend in silence. The moment they stepped out of the stairway and onto the main floor of the Opera House, they were swarmed.

Scattered applause rang out amidst the cheers and cries for an encore performance. Bouquets and bottles of fine wine were extended to her, and more than one crazed fan cried out a marriage proposal. Starfire swallowed nervously, taking a step back. The crowd tried to move with her, but a black shape dropped down from the level above. Chaos stood to her full height, looking coolly at those gathered with her bright red eyes.

"Thank you, girls," she said over her shoulder. Terra and Bumblebee nodded automatically. "Come on, Starfire." She started forward and Starfire quickly drew close to her. The crowd parted, but the noise they produced did not cease. Starfire kept her eyes on the floor, wishing that she were alone with the ever-present Angel of Music once more.

The dressing room, once bare, was nigh overflowing with gifts from zealous fans. Starfire looked about, wide-eyed, at all the flowers, notes, and various items that had been given to her. Chaos closed the door after slipping inside behind Starfire. She smiled at the young woman.

"I know you've heard it a thousand times already," she said. "But you did very well. Tonight was a single performance—just a gala premiere for the new managers. We're going to start rehearsal for _Il Muto_ tomorrow, and I have the pleasure of informing you that you'll be playing the part of the countess. I want you to get some rest."

"Oh," Starfire whispered. "I just—of course."

"You can stay here for a while. I understand." The words stopped Starfire short. She looked at the woman, all the more confused at the smile she received. A question was born in her mind from the words: what did she understand? What did she know? As if to answer those silent questions, Chaos said, "I'll send Terra and Bumblebee to get you when everyone's left. I doubt you want to be mobbed again." Starfire smiled in both relief and gratitude, nodding.

"Thank you." Chaos opened the door and slipped outside. The noise of the crowd beyond the doorway vanished with the faint click of the door closing. Starfire sat in the nearest chair, the perfume of the flowers dragging her eyelids down. As she sat, she thought wearily of her triumph. With her thoughts returned to music and song, she irrevocably thought again of the Angel of Music.

In that silent room, she prayed that the Angel would return and sing. Perhaps she would be kind enough to sing a lullaby. The idea made her smile. A small sound reached her ears, and she forced herself to open her eyes.

"Raven?" she asked aloud.

"Wrong bird, I'm afraid." Starfire gasped and stood up quickly. Robin strode in through the door, closing it quietly behind him. He grinned at her, holding a vase full of various flowers in his hands. "Surely you remember that?"

"What are you doing here?" Starfire demanded. "Who are you?"

"Robin," he replied with a laugh. "I suppose that pretty head of yours isn't one for names."

"I remember your name," Starfire said, crossing her arms and stepping away from him. "What I meant is who are you to come into my room without my permission?"

"An admirer," he said simply. "Mademoiselle, I insist that you join me for supper tonight."

"_What?_ It's—" She looked at the small clock on the desk, taking another step away from him as he stepped toward her. "It's eight thirty-eight!"

"A late supper, then." He drew closer to her, and she found herself trapped against the wall next to the full-length mirror. "I simply won't take no for an answer."

"It is all you will receive." He laughed at her, turning to walk toward the door.

"I won't keep you out too late," he said. "Two minutes, little diva." He strode out of the room, leaving her staring incredulously at the closed door. Starfire shuddered and slowly crouched down, hugging herself tightly.

"_Insolent boy!_" Starfire looked about in a vain attempt to find the voice. It came from every direction. She slowly made her way to the center of the room, still looking about. "How _dare_ he act that way!" Starfire whirled to look at the mirror. "Ignorant _fool!_ What a loathsome wretch!"

"Raven," Starfire whispered. The dark echo of rage and hatred sent ice rushing in her veins. "Raven, please forgive me—I couldn't turn him away."

"No." The voice lost its edge, lowering to the soft murmur that Starfire cherished. It was more than enough to wipe away everything else and bring forth a small, hesitant smile on Starfire's face. "No. There's nothing to forgive. You did what you could." A long, unsure silence began. Time was passing all too quickly, and the viscount had only promised a bare two minutes. Starfire bowed her head, letting loose a wavering sigh that betrayed the tears she hid.

"If only you were _here_," she said. "If you were here, he couldn't say such things. If you were here, I would…I would go with _you_." The air in the room rippled, and the sound of the candles flickering was like a soft gasp.

"Would you?" So far in her own despair, Starfire did not hear the awed hope in the voice.

"Yes," she whispered. "If you could take me from here—there is nothing more I want than to go with you."

"Starfire." The urgent way the voice said her name made her worries fade away. "Look up. Look at your mirror. I'm _here_." She did as the voice begged of her, lifting her eyes to look into the mirror. A shadow—one that she had seen many times before in almost every mirror she looked into—appeared. The shadow's shape grew defined, light revealing the figure alongside Starfire's reflection.

A woman, just taller than Starfire, stood there. She was dressed in formal wear, a black suit cut to show her feminine body. An indigo cloak was wrapped round her shoulders, held up by a large broach set with a large, crimson stone. Her skin—what Starfire could see of it—was pale, and her hair was blue-black and long. Dark blue eyes looked out from behind a finely crafted white mask that covered most of her face. Her gaze was soft, as was the small smile on her face.

"Angel of Music—_Raven_." It was the same Angel she had seen in so many dreams before. The woman in the mirror held out her hand to Starfire.

"_I am your Angel…  
Come to me: Angel of Music…_"

Her voice was low and sweet. Her song was entrancing and beautiful. Starfire began to walk forward, reaching out for the proffered hand.

"_I am your Angel of Music…  
Come to me: Angel of Music…_"

Starfire smiled, laying her hand in the woman's. She continued on, following Raven down into the darkness past the mirror.

—_to be continued—_


	4. Chapter 3

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 3

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

Robin grabbed the doorknob with a grin on his face. The grin turned to a scowl when he found that the door was locked. He pushed against the door with his shoulder, scoffing angrily when it did not give way to him.

"_I am your Angel of Music…  
Come to me: Angel of Music…_"

"Starfire!" The voice he so loathed made his own cry come out as a snarl. He stepped away to gain ground to rush, rounding his shoulder again. A single step was taken before fingers wrapped around the back of his collar. He choked on his own cravat from the sharp tug that was given to him.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Robin jerked away from a suddenly slackened hand, whirling around to find a glaring Chaos. He sneered at her and began to straighten his cravat.

"I am le Vicomte de Wayne!" he snapped.

"That wasn't my question," Chaos replied. "I want to know why you're trying to break into a room."

"Mademoiselle Starfire is supposed to have supper with me," he said tightly.

"How strange," Chaos remarked. "She looked ready to sleep on her feet when I left her alone five minutes ago. _When_ exactly did you make these plans with her?"

"That's none of your business, woman," he grumbled. "Give me the key or leave." He held out his hand, thrusting it forward insistently.

"I have a better idea." Her hands shot out, one grabbing his wrist and the other his shoulder. She twisted him about, wrenching his arm behind his back. He gasped as her grip tightened. "Leave the Opera House now, and I won't throw you out."

"What makes you think you can?" he demanded. He tried to pull his arm free, and she pressed his hand flush against his shoulder blade in return.

"I doubt very much that Starfire would suddenly agree to go to supper with a man she had never met before when she's exhausted," she hissed in his ear. "Leave. _Now._" She shoved him away, moving to stand in front of the door. Robin scowled and rubbed his sore wrist. He gave a valiant attempt, but he could not match her cool stare with any of his heated scowls. Unable to do anything else, he turned away and started to leave. If he dared to throw a glance back over his shoulder toward the dressing room, Chaos was there, staring at him with her red eyes.

----------

It was five months ago that the Angel of Music first appeared in Starfire's life. For some time, the young woman had been struggling to rediscover her voice. She had faint memories of singing with her sister, but only songs in their native language. The first time she sang in the Paris Opera House, the instant, general impression was that she was horrible. For a child who had been told her entire short life that her voice was beautiful and wonderful, it was a painful slap in the face.

Five months ago, as she sat praying for the souls of her sister and father, Starfire visited those happy memories of singing. In the quiet solitude of the stone room, she had tried to sing. Her voice had grown weak from years of disuse, and she was frightened to even open her mouth. All but whispering her favorite song from childhood, she had heard a voice speak from all around.

"Stronger," the voice had said encouragingly. Starfire had hesitated, but tried to do what the voice said. Her lessons began the moment she accepted the gentle command. The voice visited her when she was alone, and the masked woman in dark clothing soon inhabited her dreams.

It was that masked woman she followed down through the dark corridors. There were so many names for this woman that Starfire could only think of a choice few as they walked, hand-in-hand, deeper and deeper into the lowest, uncharted, and unknown levels of the Opera House.

The Opera Ghost. The Angel of Music. Raven. The last name was a gift in and of itself. It had taken a few days for the masked woman to reveal her true name, but only after Starfire had nearly begged for her to do so. The fact that Starfire's Angel of Music had a human name did not take away from her mystique and her high standing in the young woman's eyes. They grew close in those five months, as their time together was not limited to Starfire's lessons.

Raven asked of Starfire's life, and Starfire learned of the world at large in return. There were times wherein they would simply talk for hours on end, with every subject leading into the next with only the occasional mention of music or singing. Starfire treasured every moment she spent with Raven, whether in her dreams or simply with the masked woman's voice. She went through her days confidently, knowing that Raven was always in the shadows just behind her.

Though she was wearier than she had ever been, Starfire smiled brightly. The hand that was holding hers was soft, strong, and warm. She was with the person that had come to mean so much to her in reality, though everything still seemed a dream. The torch that Raven carried in her free hand lit a small area, but the confidence in her stride would have made Starfire comfortable walking in pitch black.

"You're trembling." Raven's soft words made her look instinctively to the hand not clasped in Raven's. Her fingers were visibly shaking, and she became aware of the tremors that were running up and down her spine. "Are you all right?"

"I believe so," Starfire murmured. "I don't feel at all cold." Raven stopped walking and shifted her grip, lacing her fingers with Starfire's. She looked at the hand that she held so gently, marveling for a moment at the softness of her skin. After a time where she reveled in the fact that the young woman was willingly touching her, she took note of the chill that had entered her fingertips.

"Here." She slipped the torch into a chink in the nearest wall, quickly uncoupling the broach that held up her cloak. In a single, sweeping motion, she lifted the heavy indigo cloth from her shoulders and spread it over Starfire's. After fastening the broach at the young woman's collar, she took both of Starfire's hands. Starfire felt the warmth of Raven's palms seeping into her fingers, smiling at the sensation. They lingered for a moment, Raven staring at their entwined hands and Starfire watching the dark eyes that looked out of the white mask.

"Thank you," Starfire said. Raven started and looked up, finally seeing the smile that had been on Starfire's face ever since she had passed through the mirror. Her surprise slowly gave way to a small smile, and she turned to pick up the torch.

"You're welcome," she said softly. As they began to walk again, she added, "It's not much farther."

"Where are we going?" Starfire asked. They had been walking for quite some time, and despite her happiness, she was relying heavily on Raven's hand to stay on her feet. The corridor they had been walking through ended abruptly, opening to a great underground lake. A dock extended from the rough stone shore, and a small gondola was moored to it. A lantern burned at the bow of the little boat, and Raven let go of Starfire's hand to douse the torch's flame in the water of the lake. She leapt gracefully into the gondola and stowed the torch away in a box. With her small task done, she turned back to Starfire and held out her hand.

Starfire walked onto the dock, taking great care not to slip on the wet boards. She took Raven's hand and stepped into the gondola, sitting down on the seat in front of Raven. After quickly untying the rope that moored the gondola to the dock, Raven picked up the oar and pushed them away from the shore.

"We're going to my home," she suddenly murmured.

"You live here?" Starfire asked.

"I couldn't be with you if I was somewhere else," Raven replied. Starfire went quiet, watching the rippling of the water created by the gondola. After a long moment of silence, she unconsciously leaned back against Raven's legs. Raven looked down at the young woman, utterly amazed. Her bearing—her relaxed posture, her faint smile, her barely open eyes—spoke of the greatest comfort and how at ease she was. Unable to stop herself, Raven reached down and touched Starfire's cheek with her fingers. Starfire leaned into the touch, sighing both sleepily and happily.

By the time they reached the island in the middle of the lake, Starfire was even farther into a waking sleep. Raven tied the gondola to the dock, leaning the oar in a notch on the boat's edge. Instead of jerking back into wakefulness when Raven moved, Starfire simply continued to lean against her, still barely knowing that she was doing so. With all the tenderness she had, Raven put her hands on Starfire's shoulders to balance her as she crouched down. A moment later, she scooped the young woman up into her arms and stood up.

"You promised," Starfire said as her head rolled naturally to rest on Raven's shoulder. Raven stepped up onto the dock and strode toward the house in the center of the island.

"What?" she asked. Starfire looked up at her and smiled.

"You promised to sing for me when I returned to you," she replied. Raven chuckled, turning slightly to push open the unlatched door of her home.

"What would you like to hear?" Starfire could hardly drag her thoughts back to true coherency, letting Raven's familiar and wonderful voice take her ever closer to sleep. "A lullaby, perhaps?"

"Yes, please," Starfire said with a bright smile. She saw the smile on Raven's face as the masked woman sat her down in an armchair.

"Of course," Raven murmured. "But I don't think it would be pleasant for you to fall asleep in your costume and makeup." She crossed the parlor that they inhabited, vanishing through a doorway and returning a few moments later. In her hands was a soft sleeping dress, colored an apropos white. "My washroom is through that door and to the right. Please, make yourself comfortable." She handed Starfire the dress and bowed low, laying a gentlemanly kiss on her hand.

Raven helped Starfire to her feet and waited until she heard the young woman's padding footsteps stop and a door click shut. Suit jacket fluttering at her speed, she turned about and left the parlor. She rushed to the single locked room of the home she had built over the last fifteen of her twenty-six years, unlocked the heavy door, and darted into the room. Careful to close the door gently, Raven turned about and leaned against it. Her hand came up and pulled the white mask away, and she looked into the single mirror across the room.

_She will never see any beauty from that face_.

"Be quiet," Raven whispered. The voice in her ear was all too similar to her own. The only difference was the abject malice that made a rasp tone every syllable. She slowly made her way to the mirror, reaching out and touching the image that was herself and not herself.

_Do not delude yourself. You know that once she knows the truth about you, she will scream and run._

"She's stronger." Raven scowled at the reflection, and it smirked back at her. "She chose me over the boy."

_I repeat: do not delude yourself. The boy terrified her—she will be terrified of you. She only came with you because she thinks you're the Angel of Music._

"I can be anything she wants me to be—anything she needs me to be."

_Can you now? I didn't know that the laws of the world had changed to allow a lying monster to be with a true angel. I didn't know that women were suddenly allowed to love each other as you want her to love you._

Raven turned the mirror around, unwilling to listen to the voice any further. Her face had become too much like the reflection. She stood with her palm pressed against the back of the mirror for a moment before putting her mask back on her face. After swallowing hard, she did a few short exercises to warm up her voice. As she did these exercises, she began to think of what to sing to Starfire. It took only a moment of thought to decide.

When she returned to the parlor, Starfire sat in the sleeping dress with the indigo cloak again wrapped around her shoulders. She was smiling as she snuggled into the cloth Raven knew was soft and warm, her closed eyes unable to alert her to Raven's presence.

"_Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation…  
Darkness stirs and  
wakes imagination…  
Silently the senses  
abandon their defenses…_"

Raven had an exceptional range for a woman, but she naturally sang at an alto. It was with this voice that she sang softly to Starfire. The low, husky sound was so perfect and so entrancing that Starfire barely wanted to open her eyes. The only reason she opened her eyes was to look at Raven in wonder.

"_Slowly, gently  
night unfurls its splendor…  
Grasp it, sense it—  
tremulous and tender…_"

Almost impulsively, Raven sank down on one knee. She reached out slowly, cautiously, to put a hand against Starfire's cheeks. Just as before, Starfire leaned into the touch, smiling as she put her hand over Raven's.

"_Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light—  
and listen to  
the music of the night…_"

Their hands came together in perfect unison, and Starfire rose to her feet in a trance. Raven's voice grew stronger, but it remained hypnotic and low.

"_Close your eyes  
and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes  
let your spirit  
start to soar!_"

Starfire had only dreamed of reaching the high note that Raven sang perfectly. The sound resonated in her chest, and she let out a sigh of pleasure from hearing it.

"_And you'll live  
as you've never  
lived before…_"

If there was one thing Starfire wished for at that moment, it was to see Raven's face. The mask covered so much, and with her eyes closed as they were, she could not tell if the longing and sorrow she heard was taken only from the song.

"_Softly, deftly  
music shall surround you…  
Feel it, hear it,  
closing in around you…  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight—  
the darkness of  
the music of the night…_"

There was both a plea and a promise within her words, and it was of the same things. It pleaded for her to stay and it promised to always be with her. It begged her for compassion while swearing to return that caring.

"_Let your mind  
start a journey through a  
strange new world!  
Leave all thoughts  
of the world  
you knew before!  
Let your soul  
take you where you  
long to be!_"

Raven's voice dropped low, her dark eyes looking into Starfire far deeper than she had ever known.

"_Only then  
can you belong  
to me…_"

Starfire found herself being lifted off of her weary legs, realizing a moment later how close she had come to falling to the ground. She put her head on Raven's shoulder, wanting to put her arms around the masked woman's neck.

"_Floating, falling,  
sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me,  
savor each sensation!  
Let the dream begin,  
let your darker side give in  
to the power of  
the music that I write—  
the power of  
the music of the night…_"

As Starfire put one hand on the cheek of Raven's mask, she felt her eyes close, and then knew no more. Raven saw the young woman's eyes close and her breathing grow deep and even. She carried her out of the parlor and into another room. A soft, luxurious bed was in the center of the room, with lit candles all around. Raven put Starfire into the bed, pulling the soft sheet over her. She knelt down and watched her sleep for some time, caressing her cheek lovingly.

"_You alone  
can make my song take flight—  
help me make the music of the night…_"

She stood up, eyes lingering on the unmarred, beautiful face of the sleeping woman who was her angel. As she left the bedroom, Raven knew that Starfire would be the only one of them that would get any sleep. Inspiration was running in her veins, and her hands were trembling to return to her piano. The fact that her masterpiece would have to wait made her scowl, but only for a moment. She reminded herself of what her first task needed to be, and it brought a sadistic smile to her face.

----------

Robin stood on the balcony of his flat, taking a long drink from his snifter filled nearly to overflowing with brandy. He scowled at the perfect starry night, halfway to a drunken rage over his solitude. Never before had any woman refused him, and he had never thought it possible for a woman to stand up to anyone. In the space of a single day, he had gained two enemies and one woman whom he desperately wanted. As he swallowed the last of the brandy in his glass, he turned to go back in and pour out the last of the bottle.

Darkness enveloped him. Robin dropped his snifter, and it shattered on the hardwood floor. Every candle blew out in the hard breeze that rushed through the flat, and even the gas lamps flickered and died. The light from the stars and streetlamps outside was gone, and he stood unsurely in the black.

A red glow appeared before him, flowing out from narrow, diamond shaped eyes. He took a step backward, hand groping wildly for something to brace himself against. His hand hit his desk, and he turned to open the drawer he kept his pistol in. The weapon was always loaded and ready to fire, and he kept it in the top right drawer.

A black boot kicked the drawer shut so quickly that his fingers were nearly caught and crushed. He stumbled back with a cry of shock, holding his hand to his chest. The red eyes glared at him endlessly, and a cold sweat began to roll down the back of his neck. In the darkness, the silence was deep enough for Robin to hear his thundering heartbeat.

"Who are you?" he demanded. When no reply was given to him, his anger was kindled anew. "How _dare_ you break into my home! I am le Vicomte de Wayne! I will have you thrown into prison!" There was still no response to his snarling and spitting threats. His rage overcame him, and he rushed at the glowing red eyes with a shout. He threw a drunken punch that hit nothing and made him fall to his knees. Something struck the back of his head, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

—_to be continued—_


	5. Chapter 4

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 4

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

Everything in the Paris Opera House was dark and quiet. The subscribers had gone home, and all those who lived within the massive walls were in their rooms or in the dormitories. Terra and Bumblebee were the only two out of the dormitories, and only because they had remembered to fetch Starfire from her dressing room.

They had nearly forgotten to go to their friend in all the hubbub and celebration in the dormitories. It was only when they were about to change to go to bed that Bumblebee found the key to the dressing room in her dress pocket. They had scurried down to the dressing rooms as quickly as they could, frantic to finish their task before Chaos learned of their forgetfulness.

Out of habit and courtesy to Starfire, they had knocked on the door first. Figuring that the young woman was asleep, they had tried to unlock the door. Whatever fear the two ballet dancers had carried about punishment was replaced instantly with terror when they found that the door was unlocked. Starfire was nowhere to be found in the room that they believed had been locked from the outside.

Bumblebee and Terra searched the entire room a total of four times, and grew more and more frightened with each passing moment. When they found nothing, they looked to each other and agreed silently of what they would do.

----------

There was no knocking. The two young women simply burst through the unlocked door, running immediately to Chaos. She sat, still fully dressed save for her bare feet, curled in a chair beneath a gas lamp, a thick book laying open in her lap. Terra and Bumblebee launched into a breathless, unintelligible spewing of jumbled words, gesticulating wildly and bouncing on their feet. Chaos looked at them, blinking at the rapid-fire speech that even she could not decipher. After a moment, she closed her book with a loud snap. The sound stopped the talking.

"Deep breaths," Chaos murmured. Dumbfounded on all accounts, Terra and Bumblebee did as they were told. As they sucked in deep breaths, Chaos stood up, laying the book in the chair. She smiled slightly, crossing her arms. "You're acting as if you've seen the Opera Ghost. What's wrong?"

"Starfire's—missing," Terra wheezed. The smile fell from Chaos's face instantly. She put her hands on their shoulders, looking them in the eye.

"You're _certain_ she's not in her dressing room?" she asked.

"We looked four times," Bumblebee said desperately. "Under the desk, under the chair, behind all the curtains and flowers—everything! Starfire's not there!"

"She might have been kidnapped!" Terra said. "The door wasn't locked when we got there!"

"I didn't lock the door," Chaos murmured.

"Then why did you give us the key?" Bumblebee demanded.

"To remind you to get her," the black-haired woman replied. The wry chastisement made blushes appear on the young women's faces. Worry, however, drove the redness from their cheeks and made them look up from their feet.

"Starfire's still missing, though!" Terra protested. "We need to find her—or make up a search party—or something! What if she was taken by the Opera Ghost?" Chaos laughed.

"The Opera Ghost has no reason to take Starfire," she said reassuringly.

"All she wants is Box Five and her salary," a sleepy voice remarked. Terra and Bumblebee turned quickly to find a gray-haired woman in a dark red sleeping dress sitting up from a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor next to the bed. She yawned, covering her mouth while looking at the two ballet dancers with red eyes identical to Chaos's.

"Madame Kali!" the duo said in unison, blushes returning to their faces. "We're sorry that we woke you!" Kali waved the apology away, yawning again.

"She's right," Chaos sighed, shrugging. "Starfire is fine, I'm sure. She'd have made a hell of a ruckus if someone had tried to kidnap her. I'd bet that she took a nap, and then went for a walk. You both know how lightly she sleeps. If she's not in her bed or dressing room tomorrow morning, _then_ we'll worry. Starfire's fine. Now go on—to the dormitories with you. We've got rehearsal tomorrow, and the last thing we need is for our two best dancers to start falling out of step because they didn't sleep."

Terra and Bumblebee nodded, growing reassured. They bade their teacher and Kali goodnight, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind them. As they hurried back toward the dormitories, they shared a confused look. Rumors were vicious little things that flew through the Paris Opera House like rabid bats. It seemed that every person employed once had a rumor spread about him or her, and there were no exceptions of who would fall prey.

Some rumors would die off mere minutes or hours after conception; they were too outlandish or absurd to stand up to even the most gullible of the young girls. Other rumors lingered, eventually becoming more than simple gossip. The most obvious example was that of the Phantom of the Opera. It endured because there were so many obvious hints of truth in it. The accidents that befell those that crossed the Phantom were not false, and often had many eyewitnesses to back up the belief that the mysterious woman—Phantom or not—was real.

There was another rumor that skirted the edge of accepted near-reality, and it was as just old as the rumor of the Phantom. It was whispered that there was far more to the relationship of Mesdames Kei "Chaos" Dolan and Kali than mere friendship. Kali ran the box office for the Paris Opera House with an efficiency and talent that belied her meager, miserable pay. She had joined the Opera House around the same time as Chaos, having been graciously recommended by the ballet instructor. Due to the fact that her pay was not nearly enough to pay for both lodging and necessities, Chaos had asked the then-manager Slade to allow her friend to live with her in her private quarters.

The rumor was based almost entirely off of the fact that the two women lived together. The title of "Madame" was not afforded to them by marriage. It was a mark of respect and courtesy, and—despite their youthfulness—no one believed they could rightfully be called "Mademoiselle." The only other scant hints that the rumor fed from were bright smiles and long looks—nothing absolutely concrete. Terra and Bumblebee were almost inclined to believe the rumor, but having seen Kali not sleeping in the single bed in the room confused them. Despite their confusion, they liked both women, and decided to dismiss the thought for the night.

When the door had clicked shut, Chaos locked it. She stood with her hand on the doorknob for a long moment, staring at nothing. After a moment, Kali yawned once more and stood up. She padded quietly to Chaos and put her hand against her back. Chaos turned about and lifted Kali into her arms, carrying the other woman back to the bed and laying her in it. As she strode away to turn off the gas lamp, she chuckled softly.

"You're good at getting out of bed when the door opens," she murmured. Kali sighed and wrapped herself in the blanket on the bed.

"I still don't know why I _have_ to be good at it," she whispered. Chaos turned off the gas lamp, smiling faintly as she twisted the valve closed.

"Wait and hope, love," she said gently. "Wait and hope." She turned about and walked back to the bed through the darkness, lying down and holding Kali to her. While Kali slipped back into sleep, Chaos remained awake, thinking of two simple words: "Little blackbird."

----------

Starfire opened her eyes, yawning kittenishly. She sat up and looked about, unable to summon any fright when she found that she was not in her dormitory bed. For a moment, she simply sat in the bed, growing joy pulling her lips to a smile. The knowledge that her Angel of Music had actually rescued her was a wonderful thing to wake up to. The door to the room was open, with light and faint sound reaching her. She stood up and walked out of the room, following the sound through the hallways.

A door that she had not noticed the previous night in the parlor was ajar, and the sound grew stronger as she drew closer. Starfire stopped and listened to the music that was being played. It was unlike any she had heard before, and it was phenomenal. She stepped close to the door and pushed it open as quietly as she could.

A grand piano stood in the center of the room. Piles of books and stacks of paper were spread all around. From what Starfire could tell, the books were all about music: theory, instructions on how to play certain instruments or songs, and history. The papers were covered with haphazard scribbles that looked like attempted and abandoned compositions.

Raven sat at the piano, playing furiously. She paused only to scratch down the notes she had played, occasionally lingering to look over what she had already written. Starfire gazed at her, enthralled. The jacket of her suit was folded and sat next to her on the bench. Her white dress shirt and black slacks were rumpled as if she had slept in them—or hadn't slept at all. Her long hair had fallen over her shoulders, and she only moved it away when she paused to write.

"Good morning, Starfire." The young woman started as Raven put down the pencil she had been using with a snap.

"Good morning," she replied. "Did—did I interrupt you?" Raven picked up her jacket and pulled it on, smoothing out creases with sweeps of her long-fingered hands.

"Yes and no," she said. "I _was_ in the middle of my work, but—for you?" She turned about and stood, giving Starfire a warm smile. "It can wait." Starfire flushed prettily and bowed her head, anxiously fingering the hem of the cloak she was still wearing. She lifted the cloak slightly, looking at it without seeing it. When she finally did see the indigo cloth, she gasped softly.

"Oh!" she said. "I fell asleep in your cloak! I'm sorry—here!" She started to unfasten the broach, but Raven strode forward and stilled her fumbling attempts with a soft hand.

"Keep it for now," Raven murmured. "It's the best thing until I return."

"But where are you going?" Starfire asked. Raven smiled at her.

"I know that you'd like to stay in your pajamas all day," she said, "but you should still be properly dressed around a person—a stranger like me."

"You're hardly a stranger," Starfire giggled. "But if you insist, we can go—"

"No!" The grip Raven had on her hands tightened for a moment, but loosened just as quickly. Her voice was fierce, and the intensity of her gaze stopped Starfire immediately. "No. You need to stay here."

"Why?" Gentleness was a weakness that only Starfire could stir in Raven. It was the softness of her confused voice and the sweetness of her innocent gaze that made the masked woman swallow hard and answer while staring at the floor.

"They'll take you from me if they see you," she muttered. "Please—I don't want you to go." She looked up at the light touch to her cheek she felt through her mask. Starfire smiled comfortingly at her, and it was one of the most beautiful things Raven had ever seen.

"I will not go," she said simply. "I'll wait for you to return." The relief that her words brought about was almost tangible. Raven's eyes softened, and a small smile spread on the part of her face that was not covered by the mask. She took Starfire's hand and kissed her fingers. Starfire blushed a soft rose, and Raven was grateful for her mask for the first time in her life. It had been an impulsive, intimate gesture, and she knew that the blush she wore at that moment would look strange indeed on a face such as hers.

"I won't be long," she murmured. She started away quickly, pausing only to savor holding Starfire's soft hand for a while longer. Starfire followed her out of the music room and into the parlor, but Raven was far faster. She vanished beyond another door, Starfire only seeing the edge of her jacket as she whipped round a corner. The young singer stood staring at the door, slowly sitting down in the soft chair without moving her eyes. She stared at the door five minutes more before her attention suddenly shifted to the fingers Raven had kissed. The time she spent looking at her fingers and recalling the warmth and softness of Raven's lips was far longer and far more enjoyable.

----------

Jinx's fury had not abated. She had fully expected Starfire to fail spectacularly, having cackled viciously when Mammoth told her that the girl would replace her for _Hannibal_. She had been one of those present when Starfire first sang all those years ago. She had tormented the girl afterwards, imitating a cat's howls and screeches for days on end. It was one of her greatest pleasures to mock Starfire, and so she indulged in it almost every time she saw the young woman.

It was a surprise, to say the least, when she read the newspapers the day after the premiere gala. Every paper in Paris had at least once article extolling the incredible performance of the previously unheard-of soprano. The reviews were all of the highest rating, and there were short biography pieces on the singer. Critics were unanimous in praising Starfire, and some of their articles forced a beet-violet color onto Jinx's face. They had stated that they were tired of Jinx's hackneyed acting and were glad for the respite from her voice.

Jinx sat in her ornate canopied bed, papers strewn about her. Her breakfast—the finest chocolates and wine—had been thrown against a far wall. It remained there, as her servants were too frightened to enter her room, and Malchior considered cleaning the mess to be beneath him. He simply stood by the bed with his mouth closed.

"That—little—witch!" Jinx sputtered for the fifth time in as many minutes. "How could this have happened? Who taught her? It's not possible—no one is better than me!"

"No one," Malchior agreed quietly. He only interjected when he thought prudent. Over the years, he had learned that agreeing with Jinx at the proper time would keep him in her good graces. As he watched her fling herself into a rage, he knew that his place was in said graces. Jinx sat glaring at the newspapers, studying the articles she had furiously torn from the pages.

"What did Mammoth say the next production would be?" she asked.

"_Il Muto_," Malchior replied. "He seemed confident that you would retain your place as the countess if you return to the Opera House." Just as he had learned when to speak, Malchior had learned what to say. His simple statement was more than enough for Jinx to leap out of the bed. She rushed about, shrieking orders to her servants to fetch her finest dress and jewels, as well as to prepare a carriage for herself and Malchior. Everything she commanded was done at top speed, and the two opera singers were on their way before thirty minutes had passed.

The most immediate plan that Jinx had crafted was to demand her "rightful" place as the countess in the upcoming opera. Malchior tempered the scheme by suggesting that she act courteous and to gently inform the new managers that the countess was a difficult role.

"It would be better for Starfire to rest her voice," he explained to her. "The role of the pageboy is silent—she wouldn't strain herself, and she's played the part before. It would be the best choice." He saw the cruel smirk that spread on her face and allowed himself a small smile of his own.

When they arrived at the Paris Opera House, Jinx was fully prepared for the task. She and Malchior stepped down from their carriage and swept up the stairs to the front doors. As they were wont to do, they made a grand entrance, Malchior throwing open the doors and Jinx strutting inside. For once, their entrance went unnoticed.

The stagehands, resident actors and actresses, and almost all others employed at the Opera House were scurrying here and there. They shouted wildly to each other, ignoring Jinx and Malchior completely. Despite his powerful tenor's voice, Malchior's indignant cries to acquire attention were lost amidst the noise. It was only when a young man staggered through the doors did someone stop from their frantic hustle and bustle and draw near.

"Vicomte!" Beast Boy and Cyborg rushed from the cloud of workers and hurried to the young man. He stopped alongside Jinx and Malchior, clutching something in one hand and tenderly rubbing the back of his head with the other.

"Vicomte!" Beast Boy cried again. "You were seen near the dressing rooms last night—have you seen Mademoiselle Starfire?"

"No," the young man snarled. "And according to this note from your dance instructor, I'm not supposed to 'bother' her ever again."

"Madame Dolan?" Beast Boy asked. Robin held out the crumpled piece of paper to Cyborg. The older man read the note quickly, eyes sweeping over the scrawled words on white paper. He shook his head after a moment, handing the paper back to Robin.

"Madame Dolan's handwriting is much better than that," he said. "What on earth makes you think that she would send you such a note?"

"She threatened my person last night," Robin replied. "I had plans with Mademoiselle Starfire, and she threatened to forcibly remove me from the Opera House if I didn't leave." He rubbed the back of his head with a groan, closing his eyes as he winced.

"What's wrong?" Beast Boy asked.

"Nothing," Robin snapped. He would not admit to his drunkenness of the night before, and he would not admit that he believed that he had seen a demon in his flat. The only thing he cared for was his reputation, and speaking the truth would only damage it. "What are you going to do about Dolan?"

"We will see to this matter later," Cyborg answered. "For now, learning the whereabouts of Mademoiselle Starfire take a higher priority."

"She's missing?" Malchior demanded. The three other men turned and stared at Malchior and Jinx.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Jinx!" Beast Boy said genially. "Monsieur Malchior! It's so good of you to be here!" Jinx smiled at him, but the smile reverted to a scowl when he said, "We need all the help we can get to find Mademoiselle Starfire!" Jinx coughed demurely, forcing the smile to return.

"And—_why_—is there such a need to find her?" she asked.

"Mademoiselle, she is to be the countess in _Il Muto_!" Beast Boy replied. "Rehearsal needs to begin!" Jinx's face tightened, and the smile frozen there became that much more ugly.

"But Messieurs!" she protested in a falsely confused voice. "You don't need to make such a fuss of find Starfire! You have someone to play the countess already!"

"Who?" The confusion in Beast Boy's voice was genuine, and he did not notice Jinx's hands tighten as if they were round his throat.

"Mademoiselle Jinx is very well-versed in the role," Malchior said. "She hasn't suddenly disappeared. It seems to me that she would be a perfect choice." Beast Boy and Cyborg looked first at Jinx, and then to each other. They turned away from the others, putting their heads close and speaking in soft whispers.

"Should we?" Beast Boy asked.

"If Starfire's not found, our rehearsals will be thrown completely off schedule," Cyborg replied. "And we need to bring Jinx back—Monsieur le Blood is upset without his prima donna to tend to."

"So we are?" Cyborg nodded slightly, the small frown on his face betraying him.

"Yes. We have to." They turned back to the others, smiling brightly at Jinx.

"Mademoiselle—would you be kind enough to grace us with yourself as the countess?" Cyborg asked.

"You would not rather have your precious Starfire?" Jinx inquired, the picture of a wounded artist.

"Mademoiselle, no," Beast Boy said. "The world wants _you_."

----------

Raven waited behind the wall, closing her eyes. It was a method to block out everything but sound, but she soon forgot about listening for movement. All she could think of was Starfire. The beautiful young woman's smile appeared behind her eyelids, and her incredible voice and laughter filled her ears. Raven leaned against the wall behind her, barely noticing the cold that quickly swept through her shirt and jacket from the stone.

Starfire was an absolute wonder. She was deceptively intelligent; no one looked beyond the simple things that she did. She was willful but kind. Raven had often seen her act as a peacemaker in quarrels between the other employees of the Opera House. Her personality was purely magnetic, innocence and wit combining with her beauty to create a woman that no man could resist.

It was little wonder that Raven had found herself unable to resist. She had arrived at the Opera House at the same time as Starfire. Though she was eleven years old and Starfire a mere five, she had been drawn to the girl. In her fervor to see Starfire as often as possible, she familiarized herself with the winding and complex labyrinth of the Opera House passageways within the span of a month. She had built up the small house in the underground lake with anything she could find. Old set pieces that were going to be discarded disappeared to create her home, and she even dared to leave the building to purchase more materials.

She had been seen her first year at the Opera House. A young woman had spotted her standing in a hallway and tried to speak with her. Raven had run away, slipping into one of the passages in the walls. When she found no trace of the person in the mask, the young woman had started shrieking about a ghost. Raven encouraged the rumors, appearing and disappearing in front of people whose word was considered trustworthy. She came to prefer certain people in the Opera House, but Starfire remained her favorite.

Slade had been a most agreeing man. He paid the salary she requested of him, and turned a blind eye to Kali's never selling Box Five. There were times when those in Raven's disfavor would fall victim to progressively harsher punishments, but Slade rarely did anything. He saw the logic behind the Opera Ghost's machinations and believed the notes she left for him that listed the person's transgressions. Raven was sad to see him leave.

She pulled herself from her thoughts and listened closely. She stood in a passage just beyond the wall of the dormitory Starfire lived in. The level of noise she had heard on her way up told her of a frantic search, and she was that much more grateful to Starfire's agreeing to stay behind. There had been loud noise in the dormitory that forced her to wait, but there was silence when she listened closely. Her hand started toward the lever that would swing open a false panel in the wall and allow her entrance into the room.

The door opened, and her hand froze. She leaned close to the false panel, relying on its thinner build to transmit sound more clearly. Holding her breath, she heard the footfalls of someone in boots. The person was moving with an easy, calm gait. Familiar with most every sound in the Opera House, Raven recognized the footsteps instantly. She listened as the person strode to a certain point and stopped.

Latches were undone and a trunk was opened. Every girl in the dormitory had a trunk in which to keep their personal belongings: clothes, baubles, and whatever else they chose to gather. Every trunk had its own sound. Some trunks required a few good blows before the latches would yield, and some trunks would barely open and required hard pushes that would produce frustrated noises from the girls.

Starfire's trunk, as Raven knew, had hinges that would give one squeal as the lid was opened. She heard that telltale squeal when the person opened the trunk. After a moment, she heard a large sheaf of paper being dropped on the ground and the rustling of cloth. Another moment passed, and something was taken from the trunk. Raven very nearly felt a surge of anger, wanting to burst into the room and demand to know what was going on.

She then heard the rustling of cloth. Whatever had been taken from the trunk was folded and put onto the bed Starfire slept in. The paper on the floor was picked up and laid atop the bed so gently that no spring squeaked. Another moment of rustling told of the person digging in a pocket and withdrawing a piece of paper. Footsteps soon started again, and the door opened and closed.

Raven waited until she could no longer hear the footsteps before pulling the lever. She crept through the opening into the dormitory, going immediately to Starfire's bed. A soft violet dress—one of Starfire's favorites—sat on the bed. The sheaf of papers sat next to it, and a half-folded piece of notepaper lay atop it. Raven picked up the note and unfolded it.

_She's going to be the countess. Train her well._

Raven looked at the papers still on the bed, seeing that it was a script for _Il Muto_. She looked again at the note in her hand. Just as she recognized the footsteps from a moment earlier, she recognized the handwriting on the paper. Spirits lifted, she folded the note and carefully stowed it in her pocket. She gathered the dress and the script into her arms and went back through the wall. As the false panel swung shut behind her, Raven smiled, eternally grateful that she had allies within the Paris Opera House.

—_to be continued—_


	6. Chapter 5

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 5

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

Starfire let her fingers rest on the keys of the piano. Gently, she pressed down on a single key. The resulting note was high and perfectly tuned, and the sound lingered even after she lifted her hand. For a moment, she looked at her hand. There was such a remarkable contrast between the soft golden shade of her skin and the stark white of the keys. Raven was so pale her fingers seemed to blend in with the keys as she played.

Mind turned to Raven once more, Starfire touched the fingers that the masked woman had kissed. Her thoughts began to drift, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss Raven. She entertained this idea for quite some time before fully realizing what she was thinking. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, but she could not push the image from her mind. It was blindingly vivid.

She could see her hands reaching up to touch Raven's cheeks. She could see Raven's dark eyes staring into her, so strong and sure. She could even see herself leaning forward to press her lips to Raven's, but the image was always cut short by the presence of the white mask. With her thoughts unable to stop replaying the image, Starfire grew frustrated at the mask.

There was no reason she could think of that made her understand why the mask needed to exist. It was perfect to portray the Opera Ghost, but she could not think of why Raven continued to wear it. Starfire frowned, standing from the bench. She strode into the parlor and sat in the chair, determined to carry out her developing plan but patient enough to wait for Raven to return.

A knock on the doorframe mere minutes later made her look up. Raven stood there, smiling at her. She carried two packages: one parcel under her left arm, and a sack over her right shoulder. She bowed slightly before walking to the table in the middle of the room.

"Here," she said as she quickly rifled through the larger of the packages. She held out the violet dress to Starfire, smiling. "I'll have something set out by the time you come back." It was a simple command that left no room for discussion. Starfire took the dress and went away to change, thinking all the while of how best to breach the subject of the mask.

A plate laden with food and a glass filled with dark red wine were set upon the table when she returned to the parlor. Raven gestured to the chair she had moved to stand by the table with a small smile on her face. When Starfire sat down, Raven pushed the chair forward.

"I'm sure you're hungry," she murmured. "Please, eat."

"Thank you." She began to eat, becoming abruptly aware of her hunger. The food was simple: cold chicken and soft bread with a good red wine. It was some time before Starfire realized that Raven was standing against a wall. She paused, looking at the masked woman. "Surely you must be hungry as well?"

"No," Raven said simply. Starfire lowered her gaze to the plate before her.

"Are you all right?" she asked anxiously. Raven chuckled.

"I don't eat much," she replied.

"Does—does your mask get in the way?" There was a long silence that followed her question. Starfire did not look up at Raven, resisting the urge to do so every moment.

"It does."

"Then why not take it off? You—"

"No." The coldness that had entered Raven's voice drew Starfire's eyes up. There was a frown on her face and her eyes were closed. "I want you to understand something. You are never to touch my mask. You are never to try to take it from me. Things will be well between us if you do as I say. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Raven heard the blend of emotions in Starfire's voice. She heard the dejection and the resignation that was obvious in that single word, but the thing she heard clearly was the faint fear. The smallest waver in that one word was the sharpest dagger. Held by the love she felt for the young woman, it cut away her anger and gave part of her reason to sneer triumphantly.

_You've frightened her,_ the voice in her ear laughed. She pushed the thought away and walked to the table. The empty sacks lay across from Starfire's plate, held down by the script for _Il Muto_. She picked the script up and thumbed through it until she sensed Starfire's eyes on her.

"I've learned that you're going to be the countess," she said conversationally. "Once you're done, we'll practice." Starfire nodded, beginning to eat in earnest once again.

----------

"No, no, no! You stupid girls—you're in my way! Oh, for God's sake!" Jinx threw her hands into the air, shaking her head with a frustrated sigh. Malchior cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Blood. The conductor dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief and nodded.

"Chaos, tell your precious _corps de ballet_ to move!" he snapped. "They're in Mademoiselle Jinx's way!"

"But she's upstage in this scene!" Bumblebee protested.

"You are still in my way!" Jinx replied. "I don't know why a stupid child like you is even taking part in this production! A silent role is too much, even for you!"

"How dare you!" Bumblebee cried. "You act so high and mighty, but we all know that Starfire is much better than you are!" Jinx's pale face turned an ugly beet red. She started to advance on the younger woman, her hand rising up.

"That's enough." Jinx gasped as a hand closed around her wrist. She whirled about, staring at Chaos with wide eyes. With a cold sweat breaking out under the stare of Chaos's red eyes, Jinx jerked her hand away.

"You do not command me!" she snarled. "And your dancers are the ones who started all of this—you and your precious Starfire! Tell _them_ to stop, not me!"

"I meant that we've done enough for today," Chaos said. "It's a new production. It's grown late, and we're all tired. Even _you_ are tired, mademoiselle." Chaos's voice was so low, soothing, and reasonable that Jinx found herself nodding. As she nodded, she felt her anger being replaced by the weariness that had accumulated throughout the long day. "Yes. A rational woman like you understands." Jinx smirked at the praise, continuing to nod. "Rehearsal is over for today, everyone. Thank you for all the work you've done. We'll start from where we left off tomorrow morning."

The cast broke apart, a low buzz of ambient noise filling the stage. Jinx swept away, calling for Malchior to bring her furs to her. Bumblebee and Terra watched them depart with disgust plain on their faces. When the two had vanished into the side passages, Bumblebee turned to look at Chaos.

"How can you call _her_ a rational woman?" she demanded. "She's—she's—"

"Extraordinarily gullible," Chaos remarked with a smile. She winked at the young woman, who stood with a confused expression on her face. "You'd be very surprised at how well I can lie." Bumblebee stared a moment longer before bursting into laughter. The laughter was infectious; Terra began to giggle uncontrollably. Chaos smiled at them. "We're done for today. Go ahead and do what you please." The young women curtseyed, still laughing, before hurrying away. Chaos watched them, knowing perfectly well that they were following a roundabout path to the offices.

It was plain that the duo had come to see Beast Boy and Cyborg as more than the managers of the Opera House. It was just as obvious that the two men favored Terra and Bumblebee. As the mentor for most of their lives, Chaos was glad to let the young women pursue the men they cared about. While some could consider such actions scandalous, Chaos was loath to keep happiness from those who deserved it.

When the young women had disappeared, the smile on her face slipped away. She strode to the nearest spiral staircase and wound her way up it, two steps at a time. After reaching the top of the staircase three levels up, she leapt out to the catwalks above the stage. The catwalks were narrow and took a steady stride to tread. Most stagehands did not have the skill to keep their footing on the shaky planks and manipulate backdrops and set pieces.

Mammoth, despite his half-wittedness, was one of the people most skilled in the Opera House at this task. He was therefore nicknamed the lord of the flies, and was the man who was responsible for the movement of the backdrops and hanging set pieces during rehearsals and performances. There were only two people who were more surefooted on the catwalks than Mammoth.

Chaos was by far the nimblest. There was no difference between the way she walked on the catwalks and the gait she maintained on the ground. She strode calmly, her steps measured and easy. The planks barely moved under her feet, her footfalls sounded by the crisp snaps the heels of her boots made with each step. She looked back and forth, examining the ropes holding up various things. Every rope was strong and secure; no chances would be taken with Jinx returned to the Opera House and a new production underway.

She pulled herself up a rope, rising to the highest level in the Opera House. The levels below prevented any outside light from reaching the stage. Red light from the setting sun poured in from the skylights set in the ceiling. Chaos stood still for a moment, savoring the silence and surrealism of the red light. She went into the room that held the controls, chains, and ropes for the great chandelier. Everything was coated in dust. She did not touch anything, crossing through the room to exit through another door.

High above the amphitheater, another catwalk ran round the circumference of the domed ceiling. It was finely built, painted with the ceiling's fresco to blend in and disappear to all but a trained eye. A person could climb out on a nearby rope to check on the chandelier, but Chaos did no such thing. She gazed down, leaning on the catwalk's railing. A vague smile touched her face. Of all the places she had been, the Paris Opera House was her favorite.

"Chaos!"

"Madame Dolan!" She pulled herself out of her reverie, recognizing Bumblebee and Terra's voices. They were standing on the vacant stage, looking about and pacing back and forth.

"Up here!" she called out. The young women turned and scanned the high catwalk, spotting her easily because of the contrast between her black clothing and the bright fresco painting.

Bumblebee cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Messieurs Logan and Stone are looking for you! They said it's important!" Chaos frowned, feeling the unease that had been with her since waking intensify.

"I'll be in their office in five minutes." She disappeared from their sight. The two young women looked at each other nervously.

----------

Chaos had only to see Jinx to guess why the managers had called both she and Kali into their office. She kept her face impassive, and remained standing when invited to sit beside Kali. Jinx stood behind the managers, a smile on her face. Cyborg cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, massaging the place where his false hand connected to his wrist.

"Thank you for coming so promptly," he said.

"I try to be punctual," she replied. The wry remark earned her a nervous smile from Beast Boy.

"That's good," he muttered. A moment of silence began. Cyborg and Beast Boy would not meet Chaos's eyes, and they refused to glance toward Kali.

"This is about le Vicomte de Wayne." Cyborg and Beast Boy looked up. Chaos smiled slightly at the surprise she had brought about with her words.

"Um, yes, it is," Beast Boy admitted.

"Monsieur Robin informed us that you threatened him last night," Cyborg said, leaning forward. "That you were going to forcibly remove him from the Opera House. Is this true?"

"Yes," Chaos replied. The two men's mouths fell open in shock. Jinx's smile grew wider.

"Can—can you explain your actions?" Beast Boy asked, his voice cracking.

"I can," Chaos said. "May I assume that the viscount claimed that he had plans with Mademoiselle Starfire?" The managers nodded. "Ah. I see. My good messieurs, let me explain Starfire to you. She is a very strong girl, but the performance she gave last night was her first. I and two other girls had to escort her to her dressing room to make sure she did not collapse on her way there. You know Bumblebee and Terra, do you not?"

"We do," Cyborg replied simply.

"Of course. My apologies that I would question your knowledge." She put a hand over her heart and bowed her head. The gesture was so humble and sincere that the men nodded quickly to accept it. "As I said, Starfire was exhausted. Despite that, I still believe that she will be fully prepared to play the role of the countess in _Il Muto_ when she returns."

"_If_ she returns," Jinx snapped.

"Mademoiselle, please!" Cyborg said. Jinx snorted and crossed her arms, looking away from Chaos. "Madame Dolan, this does not fully explain why you threatened the viscount."

"My apologies once more. One thing you must understand about my methods of handling my dancers is that I give them a large measure of freedom to do as they please. Despite this, I am kept informed of their dealings—either by their telling me directly or hearing of it indirectly. Starfire is very good at keeping me informed of her plans, and before Monsieur Robin told me of his dinner plans as an excuse for trying to break into her room—"

"What?" Cyborg interjected.

"He was trying to break into Starfire's dressing room," Chaos explained. "I was going to check on Starfire when I saw him try the door. It was locked—I suppose Starfire had locked it after I left the first time—and he was going to break it down. I took him by the back of his tie, asked to know what he was doing, and he claimed that he had plans to go to supper with Starfire. When I asked him when he made his plans, he replied that it was none of my business and demanded that I give him the key to her room or leave."

Silence swelled up and dominated the room. Once or twice, Beast Boy opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when he could not find the proper words. The two men could find no reason to disregard her. She spoke plainly, and the absolute sureness of her voice assuaged their doubts. After a moment, they wondered why they had questioned her at all.

"If I'm no longer needed, messieurs?" Chaos prompted. She turned slightly, pausing when she saw Kali. "Unless you also wanted to inform me that you're finally going to give Kali a decent wage?" She winked furtively at the gray-haired woman, who smiled in return.

"She's fired," Cyborg said. He shuffled a stack of papers before him. After a moment, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on the papers. "Mademoiselle Jinx has been kind enough to inform us that Madame Kali refuses to sell Box Five, even when ordered to do so."

"Monsieur Slade never ordered—" Cyborg cut Kali's protest short with a dismissive wave.

"She has also told us that Kali is the person responsible for the 'delivery' of fifty-thousand francs to Box Five every month. While we are _not_ saying that she has taken this money, it has disappeared regardless."

"The Opera Ghost is the one who takes it!" Kali protested.

"The Ghost does not exist!" Jinx snapped in return. Before Kali could say anything else, Cyborg held up his hand for quiet.

"You are hereby relieved of your duties," he said. "We already have a replacement for you."

"I assume they're going to be paid a proper salary as a reward for already selling off Box Five?" Wide eyes turned to Chaos, who stood with a smile on her face. Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Jinx could not stop themselves from drawing instinctively backwards. The smile she gave was one that showed off how remarkably sharp and pronounced her canine teeth were. Her eyes were not bright with humor, instead dark with ice in her glare.

"Madame Dolan, are you questioning the judgment of Monsieur Logan and myself in this matter?" Cyborg asked in a low murmur. Chaos's smile grew darker.

"Absolutely, my good messieurs," she murmured. "What makes you believe that this is a good idea?"

"The Opera House has been losing money," Beast Boy said. "This has to stop!"

"You'd rather infuriate the Opera Ghost than lose money?" She turned her gaze to Jinx, who started when the red eyes met hers. "You should know better than any of us what happens when the Opera Ghost is angered."

"These incidents you're referring to are nothing more than accidents," Cyborg said shortly. "We have made our decision, and we will not be swayed by superstitious fairy tales!" Chaos looked at him a moment.

"Very well," she said. "If you've made your decision. Kali, come with me." She walked to the other woman, who had not budged an inch since her dismissal. With a gentle hand, she touched Kali's cheek. Kali stood mechanically, taking hold of Chaos's proffered arm.

"Madame Dolan, she is no longer employed here," Cyborg snapped. "Unless you mean to escort her from the building, I do not understand the reasons behind this wholly inappropriate behavior."

"Kali has no home beside mine," Chaos replied. "I will not let her go." Cyborg opened his mouth to protest further, but the rage that had built in Chaos's eyes stopped him. He waved his hand while looking at his desk, and the two women departed.

----------

Raven sat playing her piano. Her fingers slammed down on the keys with a fury that translated into the discordant sections she put into her masterpiece. It was an opera born of ten year's work: _Don Juan Triumphant_. For days and nights she would work nonstop, eager to finish her work. There was a stirring in her blood, whispering to her of how close she was to completing the opera. Her inspiration had become boundless five months ago when she first started to teach Starfire.

At that moment, even thinking of Starfire could not banish her rage. Hours earlier, with Starfire in bed asleep, Raven had gone on her self-appointed rounds of the Opera House. Everything, as she learned, had gone wrong. She heard the rueful mutterings of the ballet girls that Jinx was to be the countess. She heard of the insults Jinx imparted onto everyone. No one was spared: the dancers, the other singers, the managers, the varied employees of the opera House, and even Raven herself.

It was no surprise that there were scathing things said about Starfire. Despite that, Raven's hatred for Jinx multiplied with every passing moment. When she learned of what happened in the manager's office after rehearsal, she had stood with her hands clenched in white-knuckled fists for many minutes. Unwilling to hear anything more, she swept back down into the catacombs.

As she expected, there was a note on the table in the parlor when she returned. The crisp, neat handwriting confirmed what she had been hoping were mere rumors. Kali had been replaced by a simpering little twit by the name of Kitten, and Box Five had been sold off to le Vicomte de Wayne. Raven was unsure of what was more infuriating: that the idiot fop boy would be sitting in her private box, or that such an insult had been handed to Kali.

With Starfire sound asleep, she retreated to her soundproofed piano room and set about working on the opera. Raven allowed her fury to run wild, pounding on the keys and scratching the notes down so furiously that she tore more than one hole in her papers. When her thoughts turned to Starfire, her anger increased.

She wanted the young woman to love her. She wanted the world for her, and wanted to be able to give Starfire everything she could. Hatred welled within her as she thought of the love she held. She hated the world for shoving her caring aside into a category that was deemed unworthy. She hated herself for being what she was, unable to love Starfire freely because she was a woman and because of the stain of her blood. She hated her mask because Starfire hated it, wanting to tear it from her face but always holding back the urge. If there was any chance of Starfire loving her in any way, she could never see her face.

----------

Starfire woke with her heart pounding in her chest. Though Raven had captivated her mind before going to sleep, her dreams had been empty. An overwhelming sense of loneliness had pervaded every moment of her dreams. As she sat up in the bed, she thought back on the day. Raven had been withdrawn, her eyes distant and sad whenever Starfire saw them. Seeing the inexplicable mourning in the dark eyes had wounded Starfire deeper than anything she had ever known. She wanted to comfort Raven, but the mask and its frozen, stern expression stopped her from speaking.

In a trance, she stood from the bed and walked out of the room. Sound reached her, and she followed it as she had done that morning. The door to the piano room was slightly open, releasing the harsh notes of Raven's music. Starfire opened the door, careful to remain quiet even though the music was loud enough to mask every sound she made.

Raven was hunched over the keys, her cloak draped over her shoulders. Starfire found herself walking slowly toward the other woman, staring at her. There was an incredible passion in the music she played, and were Starfire not so utterly set upon her task, she would have been swept up in its fury. As she drew closer, she noticed the elegant curve of Raven's back. Part of her wanted to abandon her endeavor and simply touch the other woman, to lay her fingers on her back and caress her. The desire, one she would have thought unbelievable earlier in her life, urged her onward.

The mask could not stay if anything was to happen. She had to see Raven's face, had to know the woman without disguises. Her hands reached out, but Raven did not notice, her eyes closed. Starfire did not stop, her fingers touching the edges of the mask. Before Raven could move to stop her, before she could even open her eyes, Starfire pulled the mask away.

The clatter of the mask against the ground was lost in the cry of rage and pain that tore free of Raven's throat.

—_to be continued—_


	7. Chapter 6

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 6

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

"DAMN YOU!" Raven leapt away from the bench, away from Starfire. She stood with her back turned, panting for breath. Her shoulders began to shake, her hands tightening to fists. "_DAMN_ YOU!"

Starfire could not move, hands frozen before her chest after letting go of the mask. She could not breathe or blink. The world pressed in on her, suffocating her. She did not know if what she had seen was real. Her eyes began to burn. It did not matter what caused her tears. Despair or horror, they poured down her face all the same. Abruptly, the breath that she had been trying to draw rushed into her throat in a strangled gasp.

The sound was loud enough to reach past Raven's ragged breathing. She began to turn, and Starfire's eyes grew wide. She was torn, not wanting to see Raven's face but still yearning for _something_.

"_This_ is what you wanted to see." There was no gentleness in Raven's voice. It was bitter and sharp and horrible. "_This_ is what you wanted—now glut your damn curiosity on it!" Fast as a viper she moved, grabbing Starfire's upper arms and leaning close to her. There was no escaping from the sight of her face.

As a child, Starfire had heard many stories. Some were fairytales with happy endings. Others were ghost stories that were told as cautionary tales to small children. Within the walls of the Opera House and under the care of Chaos, she had come to hear stories of demons. The stories fascinated her as much as they terrified her, but she had believed for years that they were nothing more than that—mere stories. Now she knew how real the tales were, standing in the presence of a demon.

Four eyes glared at her, narrow with rage. They were red from lid to lid, glowing like bright embers in the dark. A sneer pulled lips far back enough for her to see sharp teeth. A dark crimson gem lay on a pale forehead, and written on the skin beneath that gem was a symbol that shone the same brilliant red as the eyes. It was a broken S, a mark denoted by the Church to stand for Scath: the demon Trigon.

Shadows given life whipped out from beneath the indigo cloak, knocking the piano bench into the wall hard enough to shatter it. More tendrils of the darkness snapped out and snuffed three of the four candles in the candelabra on the piano. The black surrounded them, the flicker of the candle's light matching Starfire's fast, fluttering pulse. There was rage written in every line on Raven's skeletally thin face, and Starfire could only stare.

"You weren't to touch my mask!" Raven's grip tightened. "You weren't to take it from me! You _swore_ you would leave it alone! You—little—lying—Delilah!" With every word she shook Starfire, but every shake was weaker than the one before it. Abruptly, she took Starfire's hands and laid them on her cheeks, forcing her to feel the sharp angles of the bones beneath her pale and cool skin.

"This is all I am beneath that mask!" Her voice was still rough, but the rage was tinged with something Starfire could not make out. "All that I am is a monster! And now you can never be free!" She closed her eyes tight, clenching her teeth together. Starfire suddenly realized that she was holding back another cry of grief. "I would have let you go—you would have returned to me on your own. Oh, Starfire…_Starfire_."

The young woman felt heat falling onto her thumbs—tears. She blinked, clearing her eyes of the tears that had gathered but not fallen. The high set of eyes on Raven's face had become nothing more than the eyebrows of the lower set. Darkness surrounded these eyes, and Starfire could sense how deeply set they were when she gently put the tips of her fingers over them.

"Raven." The name escaped her lips in a whisper, but Raven jerked away from her as if it burned hotter than a flame. She turned away, pressing her hands over her face. An instant later, her hands fell limply to her sides and she looked to the ceiling.

"For one moment," Raven murmured softly, "I thought I could have heaven. You dared to think of me as more. I believed that you could have—that you _did_ love me as I love you." Her head fell with a sigh. "But I can only be your Angel of Music—a demon masquerading as an angel." She lifted her hand, reaching out behind her. Shadows took hold of the mask that lay on the floor and brought it to her hand. Her back still to Starfire, she wiped away the tears and put the mask on her face. When she turned around, the only sign that anything had happened were the tears yet unshed in both women's eyes.

"You must return," Raven said, her voice falsely calm. "The fools who run my theater will be missing you."

----------

Chaos rarely slept, taking a number of different excuses whenever someone inquired of it. That night, she and Kali both remained awake. Kali was too furious to sleep, tossing and turning in their bed for an hour before giving up and sitting in Chaos's lap as the taller woman lounged in the chair. Had they been sleeping, they would not have heard the near-silent knock at the door.

Kali reluctantly stood up and went to the door, opening it only slightly. She and Chaos had encountered her replacement earlier in the day, and only a well-timed interjection from Chaos had saved the woman—Kitten—from a broken nose. Kitten had been annoyingly chipper, and seemed well aware that Kali was the one she spoke disparagingly of when she remarked on the uselessness of the box office manager that she replaced. Jinx had been worse, guiding Kitten about and laughing uproariously at her remarks. Both Chaos and Kali knew of Jinx's love of torment, and Kali fully expected the prima donna to be standing at the door despite the late hour.

She could not hold back a gasp of surprise when she found Starfire half-conscious behind the door. The young woman's eyes closed as Kali wrenched open the door, and Kali found herself too preoccupied with catching her as she fell forward to notice that she had been let go of. Chaos stood from the chair and strode to the door, her eyes locked with those that looked at her from the shadows. A pale hand—one of the two that had been holding Starfire's shoulders—held out a note. Chaos saw the faint tremble of the hand, the tenseness of the fingers clutching the note. She turned her gaze back to the dark blue eyes in the shadows. Without looking away, she took the note.

Their gazes lingered, but no words passed between them. The dark eyes closed, and a shadow within the shadows swept away. Chaos closed the door gently, locking it. The clack of the deadbolt sliding into place made Kali look up. She opened her mouth to speak, but saw the note in Chaos's hand. Closing her mouth a moment, she gently put her hand on Starfire's forehead.

"She's not hurt," she murmured. "Just unconscious." She looked back up at Chaos, who stood gazing at the two women. "Should we take her up to the dormitories?"

"No," Chaos replied. "I don't want to wake the other girls, and the last thing we need is for everyone to lose their minds when they find Starfire returned to her bed. She'll stay with us until she wakes up."

"You mean until you think it's the right time to wake her." Chaos smiled, extending her hand to Kali.

"You know me far too well, my dear."

----------

"This is insane!" Beast Boy moaned, clutching his head in his hands. Cyborg nodded from his place at the desk, barely noticing the other man as he paced back and forth. "It's the first day Kitten is on the job, and she's nearly overrun! She said that people were demanding to know what happened to Madame Kali and they kept asking about Mademoiselle Starfire! We've already sold the entire house for _Il Muto_!"

"To hell with Gluck and Handel—it's a scandal that'll pack them in the aisles."

"What?"

"Nothing." Cyborg sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin slowly. "Is everything ready for the performance? It's only a week away."

"More or less," Beast Boy replied. "We're reusing about two thirds of the backdrops and set pieces from last year's production."

"Why not all of it?" Cyborg asked. "It'll save time and money."

"They've been thrown out," Beast Boy said. "We just have to make or buy new ones. We're on schedule though." Cyborg nodded. He drummed his fingers on his desk, and his nervous gesture reminded him of the stack of letters under his hand. He picked the stack up and rifled through them, tossing them one by one back onto the desk. He subconsciously sorted them, bills in one pile and letters from patrons and subscribers in another. When he came to the bottom of the stack, he froze.

"Who delivered the mail?" he asked.

"I don't know," Beast Boy said shortly. "Why?" He turned to see the note Cyborg held in one hand. He recognized the telltale crimson wax seal and the black envelope. Cyborg opened the envelope as Beast Boy walked hesitantly to the desk, retrieving the black paper as slowly as the other man's stride. After clearing his throat unnecessarily, Cyborg began to read the note aloud.

"_Messieurs Stone and Logan,_

_Though this is regrettably tardy, thank you for such an enjoyable evening. Starfire was exquisite. Like most patrons of my Opera House, I was hardly upset that Mademoiselle Jinx did not 'grace' us with her presence. You've allowed a great talent to take wing._"

"Madame Dolan said the same thing," Beast Boy murmured. Cyborg glanced up at him, but turned his gaze quickly back to the rest of the note.

"_I would like to remind you that my salary has not yet been paid. Monsieur Slade and I had a very pleasant relationship, and I would very much like to have a similar relationship with you. If you want to keep anarchy from the theater, you will not begin our partnership by angering me._

_Kind regards,_

_O.G._"

"Is she threatening us or isn't she?" Beast Boy asked. Cyborg scowled, gripping the note as if to tear it in half. His hands tensed, but he did nothing. After a moment, he let out a wavering sigh and put the note on the desk.

"We're not paying her," he said simply. "She's nothing short of insane." As if to save them from the subject, someone knocked at the closed door. "Come in!" The door swung open and Robin strode into the office with a stern look on his face.

"Good afternoon, Vicomte!" Beast Boy said. "You're well, I hope?"

"Well enough," Robin said brusquely. "I've come to see what you've decided to do about Dolan and her behavior."

"Nothing." Robin's hands slowly clenched into fists, tightening and tightening until his knuckles cracked. He ground his teeth together and sucked a deep breath through his nose.

"I've given you an entire day to do what you will with that despicable woman," he snarled. "But I expect to see results, not the same ridiculous answer to stall for time. I do not care how much this woman appears to do—I demand a punishment for her inexcusable actions."

"After hearing Madame Dolan's side of the story, we have decided that she is…free of fault," Beast Boy murmured.

"Then who _is_ the person at fault?" Robin asked in a whisper. Neither man would meet his narrow-eyed gaze. The only sign of the fury that threatened to emerge was the tautness of his neck and the stiffness of his spine. He opened his mouth to speak.

"_Where is he?_" The furious shriek rushed through the open door. Robin was nearly knocked from his feet as Jinx flew through the door, shoving him aside in her haste to get to the desk. She slammed her gloved fists down onto the desk, her eyes wild and her usually neat clothing askew. "_Where is your precious patron?_" Cyborg lifted his hand and pointed over Jinx's shoulder. The woman spun about, her pale face flushed as she stalked to the man who was barely as tall as she was.

"What is it now?" Robin demanded. Jinx lifted her arm and shook it in Robin's face, slapping the end of his nose repeatedly with the note crumpled in her fist.

"How _dare_ you send me this letter?" she screeched. "How _dare_ you say such things to me?"

"What in the world is going on?" Cyborg asked.

"Your patron has sent me a letter of an unforgivable sort!" Jinx replied.

"Did you send it?" Beast Boy asked. Robin scowled at him, though the manager was less affected by it than he would have liked.

"What in the hell would drive me to do such a thing?" he snarled. "I have no caring for her!"

"We know where your caring lies, you wretched, miserable man!" Jinx said in return. "It's the reason behind this letter!"

"I sent you no letter!"

"Don't lie to me! If you did not send me this letter, who did?" Robin grabbed the woman's wrist, weary of being struck in the nose. He plucked the note from her hand, letting go of Jinx's wrist and unfolding the crumpled paper. Still scowling darkly, he read the note aloud.

"_You will surrender the role of the countess to its rightful owner—Mademoiselle Starfire. If you perform this coming Saturday, I promise you that a great misfortune will occur—a disaster beyond all your imagination_." The man's scowl deepened as he tore the note to shreds. He lifted his hands and let the shreds flutter to the ground. The rage that had been building in him found a new target in the woman that stood before him, and he opened his mouth again to speak.

"Mademoiselle Starfire has returned." All attention snapped to the doorway, where Chaos stood with her arms crossed and a smile on her face. Her words made Cyborg sit up in his chair and Beast Boy take a step forward, eyes shining eagerly.

"She's all right?" Beast Boy asked. He balked at the furious glare Jinx sent his way. Loosening his tie, he cleared his throat and looked at Chaos with a forced look of irritation. "As far as we're concerned, of course."

"Where is she?" Robin demanded. Chaos turned to look at his eyes, the smile never changing.

"What makes you think I'd tell you?" There was a loud, almost ear-splitting crack as Robin reached out and struck Chaos's face with an open palm. The blow was so abrupt and forceful that even Jinx could only stare in shock. Chaos stood still for a moment, her head turned to the side by the slap. The smile had not moved from her lips, but the coldness that arced from her eyes as she looked back to Robin was palpable. He repressed the shudder than rushed up his spine, narrowing his eyes even further.

"Where is she?" he snarled

"She is very weary," Chaos replied. "She requested to be allowed to rest in relative solitude."

"Relative?" Cyborg asked. The ice in Chaos's gaze thawed and transformed to genuine warmth as she turned to smile at the man.

"My dancers are always welcome in my quarters," she said. "Starfire asked me to let her stay with Kali and I for a time before returning to the dormitories."

"Why aren't you there now?" Beast Boy asked curiously. He whimpered when he saw the note Chaos held up. Cyborg gestured for Chaos to read the note aloud, burying his face in his hands as she opened the letter and withdrew the familiar black paper.

"_Messieurs,_

_So it is to be war between us?_

_If you wish to let peace reign in my Opera House, you will follow the conditions in this ultimatum._

_You will void le Vicomte de Wayne's purchase of my private box, and you will not sell it again._

_Mademoiselle Starfire, who has been returned to you, will play the part of the countess in _Il Muto _this coming Saturday. Jinx will accept the part of the pageboy, as she will be sick and unable to sing._

_You will reinstate Madame Kali to her rightful position as box-keeper, as I require her services. Furthermore, you will send word through Madame Kali that you accept these conditions. I also insist upon my salary, which is now late. Madame Kali will know what to do._

_I advise you to comply. If you do not, you will perform _Il Muto _in a cursed house on Saturday._

_Take my advance and be warned in time._

_O.G._"

"God, what next?" Beast Boy asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'm sick of this ghost," Cyborg groaned, pressing his forehead to the desk.

"Then all you have to do is be rid of le Vicomte," Jinx hissed. When attention was given to her, she forced the smile of pleasure from her face and instead took on a darkly knowing look. "These demands are for Starfire's benefit. Le Vicomte _wants_ Starfire. He's only saying to take away Box Five to keep suspicion from him! This is all a ploy to help Starfire!"

"I would not stoop to such deluded levels!" Robin protested. His words, however, did nothing. There was a spark when Cyborg and Beast Boy looked to each other. Even though it seemed ridiculous—an idea worthy of its own opera—it could explain many things. Starfire's sudden disappearance could be equated with Robin spiriting her away to his bed for a few nights. His vehement protests and the most recent notes could be mere smoke and mirror tactics to hide the scandalous relationship. Even though there was damning evidence screaming in the face of this farfetched plot, Cyborg and Beast Boy were fully prepared to accept it. It was far more appealing than the idea of the Phantom of the Opera.

"We don't take orders from anyone," Beast Boy said. "Mademoiselle Starfire will be playing the part of the pageboy, and Mademoiselle Jinx will be the countess."

"I advise that you think before making such a decision," Chaos said in a low voice. "The Opera Ghost will not be pleased."

"Madame Dolan, please," Cyborg sighed. "I have had enough of this superstition stuff and nonsense. We have made our decision. Do you have anything else to say to us?" Chaos regarded the man for a moment, then shook her head. She bowed slightly and left. Jinx allowed a small, triumphant smile to spread on her lips. Beast Boy cleared his throat and turned to look at the woman with a massive, toothy smile.

"Mademoiselle, will you light up the stage?" he asked. "Please—sing prima donna, once more!"

----------

Starfire wondered, distantly, why she was still awake. There was a great weariness in her that made her all but immobile. The chair she sat in was soft, and large enough for her to draw her legs up and curl comfortable between the two arms. She held a cup of tea—an herbal brew, Kali had told her—in her hands, and the scent and warmth was soothing. A soft sleeping dress had been fetched for her, and she was wrapped in a large black cloak that was as soft and warm as Raven's had been.

With that single, dazed thought, Starfire knew why she was awake. Her mind was far too busy to allow her to sleep. Though she was hardly able to form coherent thoughts, her mind was firmly set upon Raven. The music she had played lingered in the back of Starfire's mind, and the sound of her voice made warmth appear in her chest.

The thought of the horrible face of a demon immediately destroyed any warmth. Starfire shuddered involuntarily, trying to push away the memory of the glowing red eyes. Despite her efforts, the memory could only give way to the mask she loathed as much as she was terrified of the demon's face. She had not seen Raven's face clearly when she had wept. Starfire's hands had covered most of her skin, and her eyes had been closed. The blending of the three images—one incomplete and haunting because of it—tormented her and kept sleep at arm's length from her.

"Are you all right?" Kali asked. Starfire turned her head slightly, looking at the gray-haired woman. She sat in the chair from the desk in the room, a loose red shirt on her torso and black breeches on her legs. Her long hair had been hurriedly tied back with a piece of black cloth, and she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. When Starfire blinked, she felt tears stream down her face. With a wavering sigh, she tried to dab at her eyes, but threatened to upset her tea. Kali reached out and Starfire gratefully handed the mug to her. Sighing once more, she pressed her sleeves against her eyes.

"Is it possible to be tired of crying?" she asked. Kali smiled slightly, though Starfire could not see it.

"Very possible," she replied. "And very easy." Starfire lowered her hands, putting her arms between her knees and letting her hands hang limp. Kali blinked, putting the mug carefully on the floor and leaning forward. She took Starfire's left hand gently and looked at its ring finger. "Starfire? Where on earth did you get that ring?" Starfire began to pull her hand away, and Kali let her move. She put her hand to her chest, twisting the ring on her finger. It was a small gold band—one that looked much like a wedding ring.

She could not tell Kali the truth. She could not explain what drove her to take the ring that Raven offered her. Whether it was out of pity, because Raven swore the ring would protect her from all harm, or because of the way her heart still pounded painfully at her ribs when she thought of the woman, she had taken the ring. She had taken it, and she would never let it leave her finger.

"You don't have to tell me now," Kali murmured. "But I would like an answer—as Kei and I would both like to know what happened to you." She picked up the mug of tea and returned it to Starfire, who took a sip. When she lowered the mug, clutching it in both hands, she stared into the dark liquid.

"Madame Kali?" she asked.

"Please, Starfire—just Kali," the older woman said. "There's no reason for anyone to call me 'Madame.' Especially if I have no job." Starfire glanced up at the good humor in Kali's voice. She turned her gaze back to the tea when she saw the bitterness in her eyes.

"I'm very sorry to hear that you've been—replaced," she said quietly. Kali sighed, shook her head, and ran her hand over her hair.

"It'll be fine," she said in return. "Wait and hope, as Kei always says." She chuckled suddenly, a smile pulling at her lips. "Kei hasn't turned me away, so I'm happy despite all this." Starfire licked her lips, gnawing at them gently.

"Kali?" she began again. "What…what are you and Madame Dolan to each other?" The silence that followed her question was deep enough for her to hear the fast, hard thunder of her heartbeat. She swallowed and gripped the mug tighter, the ring clicking against the ceramic. "I'm so sorry—that was terribly rude. You don't have to answer."

"We love each other." Starfire froze. "I love her more than anything in the world, and she loves me in return."

"But…you—you're both…"

"Women? Yes, we are." Starfire bit her lip harder, refusing to meet Kali's eyes.

"How?" she whispered.

"How what?"

"How can you live this way? You're…lying."

"You're the first person I've said anything to," Kali murmured. "No one has asked directly. Kei and I aren't lying."

"But you're hiding. How can you hide the way you feel?"

"We live in Paris, Starfire. Everyone is well versed in hiding how they actually feel. The face Kei and I put out to the world at large isn't what matters. We know how we feel, and we have a private life with each other. That's enough. For now."

"For now?"

"Until people learn that love isn't something to be shoved aside and deemed unworthy just because they have ridiculous reasons to hate." Starfire dared to glance at Kali, looking at her face. The older woman was smiling faintly, her eyes bright. Faced with the passion she saw and heard, Starfire turned slowly away. She let her grip on the mug loosen, lifting her left hand and looking at the golden ring on her finger.

She did not know what she had felt for Raven before so callously snatching away the mask. She knew that she longed to hear Raven's voice, see the dark form in the shadows or even that damnable mask. Raven's presence was comforting and—if Starfire admitted the truth—addictive. She ached when they were apart, always impatient to see or hear from Raven again. The mere thought of Raven was enough to drive away any unhappiness in her.

The only thing that had changed for Starfire was the fear she held of Raven's fury. Her rage, given a horrible physical form by her demon's blood, was what drove Starfire away. Starfire took another long drink of her tea. As she drank, she thought back to the moment where Raven had gripped her arms so tightly. There had been discomfort, but it was barely more than the sting of a half-hearted slap. Even the shakes had been gentler than most of the shoves and bumps she had gotten on the stage during rehearsals.

Raven had not harmed her, even in such a fury. The restraint and control the woman had shown had not been absolute or perfect, but Starfire knew the impossibility of completely locking away how one felt. She found herself growing impressed and relieved at the self-discipline Raven enforced. Thoughts again captivated by Raven—purer, happier images than before—Starfire drained the last of her tea.

Kali caught the empty mug as Starfire slipped away into sleep, the young woman's hands falling limp. She put the mug on the floor under the chair and sat for a moment longer, watching Starfire's face. She was utterly relaxed, strands of her long red hair fluttering with every few breaths. Kali smiled, shaking her head. She stood up and lifted Starfire from the chair with a strength that belied her woman's form. With a gentleness that only Chaos had seen before, she carried Starfire to the bed and laid her in it, pulling the blanket over the young woman.

She sat on the floor near the bed, closing her eyes. She did not sleep, and did not stir when Chaos entered the room minutes later.

—_to be continued—_


	8. Chapter 7

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 7

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

Raven knew that the dream was not her own. She remembered fitfully twitching and jerking in her bed, having given up and laid down when the music did not come to her. Sleep was not a thing she had wanted at that moment. Torment would come to her, either through dreams of a life with Starfire that would never be or through nightmares of the young woman's blood on her hands. There were a thousand things Raven wanted to do other than sleep, but she could do none of them.

The dream that she stood in, however, was nothing like that she had dreaded. It was snowing lightly, the empty world all around her gray and gently lit. She looked into the sky a moment, lifting her hands to take the mask from her face. The tiny pinpricks of cold on her skin was soothing and refreshing, but she was grateful for her cloak nonetheless. She knew that winter's first real snowfall was soon to come, but her craving to feel anything but the mask on her face was too immense to wait for her yearly ritual. Whenever the first falls—rain and snow—of the year came, she allowed herself to slip away from the Opera House and let her face be touched by the pure waters of nature.

A faint crackling noise made her press the mask back onto her face with a speed that blurred her hands. She turned about just as quickly, eyes sweeping over the white and gray landscape. The crackling grew louder, and her finely tuned hearing recognized the sound within moments. It was a fire that burned without wood or oil—a fire born of magic. She had heard the sound many times before, and she sighed softly as she started to walk toward the source of it.

Black fire was dancing a few meters before her: a wide bonfire through which she could see the shape of a person. Snowflakes hissed, melting and turning to steam when they fell into the flame. A wind picked up just as Raven was about to speak, lifting her cloak and pushing down the flames. Her dark blue eyes met Starfire's bright green ones, and she froze. The wind died, but the fire remained low enough for the two women to see each other.

Raven's mind worked at a furious pace, but distantly. She knew why she had been brought into the dream, but she could not force herself to wake. She remembered that Starfire had asked her to explain what the young woman's dreams had meant, and remembered what the setting of the dream meant. The white, snow-filled world represented an overwhelming emptiness, and had been formed from a time where, as a child, Starfire had been lost in a snowstorm. The black flames had two meanings: fear and confusion.

Legends of demons brought fear about, as Starfire had heard that the strongest and most terrible of demons held power over the unnatural fire. Confusion came because it was such a strange thing to see, especially without fuel to burn. Though Raven knew what these individual pieces of the dream meant, she could not think of what they all meant in unison, especially with herself within the dream.

"Have you brought our minds together once again, or am I merely dreaming?" Starfire whispered, her voice somehow carrying through the crackle of the flames.

"Neither," Raven replied, speaking as though nothing had changed between them. "This is not a simple dream, but it's not of my doing. I don't have the power to bring our minds together like this, and I never have." Silence, broken only by ever-present crackling and hissing of fire and snow, reigned. After a few long moments, Raven turned away. "I'll wake myself. Goodbye."

"Wait." Raven paused, opening her eyes but refusing to turn back around. "Please…don't go."

"You want your dreams inhabited by a demon?" The bitterness in Raven's voice was strong enough to shadow the faint hope that still dwelt in her chest. It was strong enough to make her third and fourth eyes open and set all of them aglow with red light. It forced her to look back over her shoulder, and made her glare at the woman she cared so desperately for. She saw Starfire recoil and pale, but only slightly. The sight immediately stole away the strength of the bitterness, and the two eyes on her forehead closed. The light in them faded, and Raven turned to face Starfire completely.

"I…I don't know what this dream means," Starfire said quietly. "I would like it if you could read it with me, as you've done before." Raven stared at the other woman for a moment, watching her through the black, flickering flames.

"Very well," she murmured. "Tell me what you think the dream may mean." Starfire nodded, beginning to look closely at everything. She knew Raven's teaching methods well. There would be few direct answers; Starfire had to find the facts and put them together largely on her own.

"Black fire in a snowy plain," she said softly. "Confusion, fear, and loneliness."

"About what?" Raven asked. The soft eyes Starfire turned upon her was answer enough. Raven swallowed and looked at the ground. The bonfire between them grew larger. Starfire opened her mouth, paused in thought, and let out a low sigh.

"Why did you begin teaching me to sing?" Raven looked up quickly.

"Your voice is unlike anything I've heard!" she replied. "By Heaven, Starfire—I was amazed you hadn't been taught until then!"

"Everyone said that I was horrible," Starfire muttered. "The first time I sang in the Opera House—"

"I was there," Raven said. Starfire looked at the masked woman's eyes, staring at the brightness in them. "Who were the ones that told you such a thing?"

"Jinx and Monsieur le Blood," Starfire admitted. "They—Monsieur le Blood is the chief vocal teacher. He said he couldn't teach a child that squealed like a dying rat."

"But no one else told you that you were horrible?"

"Monsieur Slade and Madame Dolan were there," Starfire said, her voice growing softer and softer. "Monsieur Slade didn't say anything, but Madame Dolan…she said that Monsieur le Blood had been deafened by Jinx's screeching." She let out a quiet giggle. "I think that's what made Monsieur Slade happy to have her as the ballet instructor."

"Madame Dolan is very much a worldly woman," Raven explained. "She's heard singing from every country that you can think of. She was the one who found you, wasn't she?"

"Yes. She found me on the streets with my friends, Bumblebee and Terra. She asked all of us to sing, and she still took us all to the Opera House."

"But you were the only one she asked to sing before the manager and the vocal teacher." Starfire nodded, looking into the black fire. It flared for a moment, but begin to die down. "You have a beautiful voice, Starfire. We know that perfectly well. What could have driven le Blood and Jinx to say the opposite?"

"They…they'd never heard a song outside of French or German. They couldn't know if my voice was good or not."

"And le Blood didn't want anyone to replace his little prima donna." Starfire smiled at the remark, amused by Raven's sarcasm and proud of her answering the question. The smile faded when she thought back on the day.

"He doesn't have to worry," she said. "Jinx is still going to play the countess." There was no reply. Starfire glanced toward Raven, but the masked woman had closed her eyes tightly. Starfire swallowed, forcing her leaden legs to move and carry her around the bonfire. "Raven…please, open your eyes."

"No."

"Please. I can't tell what you're feeling when you close your eyes with that—that damned mask on your face." Raven's eyes snapped open, and Starfire froze when she saw the red light in them. After a moment, she started forward once again, stopping only when she stood before the other woman. Slowly, she lifted her hands and reached out. As her hands drew closer, Raven grew tense. "I won't do it again—not without your permission." She laid her hands on Raven's covered cheeks. "Do—do I have your permission?"

"I won't turn this into a nightmare. I should wake myself now."

"Wait!" Just as before, Raven paused. The red glow had faded from her eyes when Starfire touched her, and she stared at the urgent expression on Starfire's face. "Please. I haven't—we haven't learned why we're in this dream."

"I've confused and frightened you," Raven replied.

"But why would the flames be _here_?" Starfire nodded at the snow all around them, but Raven did not answer. "It means loneliness—that's what you've told me. I'm lonely, Raven."

"I returned you to your friends," Raven protested.

"But you pushed me away from _you_." Raven's eyes widened at the words and the blush that spread across Starfire's face. "You said you love me. Is that true?"

"More than anything I've ever known."

"You said that you are a demon. Is that true?"

"Not completely. I'm a half-breed."

"Between a human and a demon?"

"And an angel. My mother was fathered by an angel, and I was fathered by a demon." The small smile on Starfire's face pushed away the memory of her father, and Raven lifted a brow behind her mask. "What?"

"You can't masquerade as something you are in truth," Starfire replied. "I knew you were my Angel of Music." Raven froze, feeling as though she had taken a blow to the chest. Breath coming slowly and deeply, she lifted her hands and laid them over Starfire's. The black flames continued to dance beside them, but it was weak, and the snow was melting rapidly. A grassy plain was left behind, the warm sun shining from the edge of a puffy white cloud.

"We're both going to wake up soon," Raven said, her voice distant. She recognized the faint tug at the base of her neck, and noticed the twitch of muscles along Starfire's shoulders that signaled the same thing. Starfire shook herself from her smiling reverie.

"Raven?" she asked.

"What?"

"Let me see your face. Please." Raven opened her mouth to protest, but could do nothing against the silent insistence in Starfire's eyes. She nodded, gently lifting Starfire's hands from the mask. Bowing her head slightly and cupping her hands, she let the spell holding the mask up fade away. The mask fell into her hands and she began to lift her head.

They stared at one another for many moments. Raven could not force breath into her lungs, all her focus on remaining calm. There was no way for her to know how Starfire saw her, and she was too frightened to try and sense what the young woman was feeling. Starfire's face was strangely blank, her eyes open and staring.

All around them, the world was beginning to soften. The individual blades of grass, once so defined, blurred together in a single green shape. The edges of the blue sky and the green grass slowly began to blend. What little remained of the black fire extinguished entirely. Starfire smiled faintly, but the smile was still there. Raven smiled as everything—including Starfire—vanished. She prayed that Starfire saw the smile, and opened her eyes.

----------

Raven took stock of what she knew, as she always did when her consciousness changed from dreaming to wakefulness and vice versa. She lay on her side in her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. The door that led out of the room was before her, as she naturally slept turned toward the door in that particular bed. The door was completely open, and light from her parlor flowed down the short hallway to silhouette the figure standing in the doorway.

Whatever fears she would have felt in that moment being discovered half-asleep without her mask were dispelled when she realized who was standing there. The light was strong enough to curve around on the face and reveal the calming smile, and Raven could never mistake the presence that she instantly sensed. She did not move, instead closing her eyes. She listened as the footsteps began.

"Did you make her bring our dreams together?" she asked. A small chuckle rang with the footsteps.

"No. I never actually made her do that. She likes to see you happy, just as I do." The footsteps stopped as another laugh sounded clearly. "It helps that we like to see Starfire happy as well."

"She saw my face." Hands reached out and untangled the sheets, pulling them over Raven. "She saw all of my eyes." The light quilt that had been kicked from the bed was retrieved and spread over Raven. She pulled it to her chin, brows furrowing as she closed her eyes tighter.

"How did she react?" A weight sank down next to Raven on the bed.

"She was so frightened." Raven opened her eyes, staring into a dark corner beside the door. "I told her that I love her."

"I suppose that was when you brought her back up into the Opera House. What happened in your dream just now?"

"She told me that she was lonely without me. She called me her Angel of Music—_her_ angel. By Heaven, she asked to see my face and she _smiled_ at me." A small chuckle answered her amazed whisper.

"Love has a wonderful way of making people look past many things."

"Do you think she loves me?"

"I thoroughly believe that Starfire feels _something_ for you. Whether or not it's love—I don't know yet." Raven let out a low sigh, and it harmonized with the sigh that followed the words. There was a moment of silence before anything more was said. "They aren't listening. Jinx is keeping the role and the boy is keeping your box. Not to mention that the managers aren't going to pay the fifty thousand francs."

"That has to change," Raven murmured. Her voice was casual, but the red glow in her four eyes belied that calmness. "Will you help me?"

"They've insulted me just as much as you. I'll do what I can." Raven closed her eyes, knowing that there was much that could be done. She let herself settle back into a comfortable position. "I'll let you sleep. It's already Friday." The weight rose from the bed, but the footsteps did not begin. "Would you like to hear your lullaby?" Raven nodded, waiting only a moment before the sound of a full orchestra filled the room. The music was soft and familiar and it did exactly as its title claimed it would. Raven was lulled completely, and slipped into sleep quickly.

A golden violin bow was spun between long fingers, and the footsteps that took the owner of those fingers and that bow from the room were silent. The door was closed just as silently, and Raven did not wake until morning had truly come.

----------

The final rehearsal of _Il Muto_ passed with no complications. Every actor was ready, every set prepared. Jinx gave no thought to the Opera Ghost's threat, too busy swimming in the limelight she had so carefully placed upon herself. She barely noticed as Starfire whispered the countess's lines during rehearsal, and ignored—as she always did—the snide comments and looks sent her way by most everyone else.

There was little doubt in the prima donna's mind that the opera would be performed without a fuss. Her confidence came from two things. The first was her stance of pure denial that anything could possibly go wrong for her. She forced her will on others until they all but knelt at her feet. Those that did otherwise were ignored—until they grew too bothersome.

The second reason Jinx remained confident was the same reason no one grew too bothersome for her. While she herself carried a paranoid belief that there was a cabal or sick society plotting against her, it was Jinx who had created this little circle. No one wanted to fall on the worst of Jinx's sides, knowing full well that many up-and-coming actors, singers, and even some of the staff of the Opera House had disappeared after angering her.

Jinx had sworn that she would not be hindered in her triumphant return to the leading roles in the Opera House. There was no mercy in her to utter even a sarcastic plea for heaven to help whoever crossed her path. Whether it was Starfire, the Opera Ghost, or some other unfortunate soul, Jinx would have no one disrupt the life she had created. The perfect performance of _Il Muto_ on Saturday would solidify her place in the world once again, and Jinx was prepared—in every way—to assure that perfection.

—_to be continued—_


	9. Chapter 8

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 8

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

On the morning of the day that was supposed to be utterly perfect, the notes were the first things that told the world the day would not go as planned. Jinx woke early at ten sixteen, too eager to sleep for the first time in three years. She smiled as she stretched and did not curse the bright sunlight flowing into her window. As her hands fell from their position over her head, her fingers landed on an envelope that was placed rather artistically on her pillow.

She picked it up with a smile, thoroughly believing that Malchior had furtively delivered an admirer's note while she slept. With quick, small fingers, she tore open the envelope and withdrew the note.

_You will not sing tonight. You have a cold, and trying to sing will ruin your voice. Sing, and you bring disaster on yourself._

It was simple and succinct. Jinx tore it to pieces and threw the shreds over the side of the bed. She thought momentarily of lying back down and sulking, but refused to let the note affect her too greatly. She kept the smile on her face and went to ready herself for the performance.

----------

Robin picked up the solitary note on the floor under the mail slat. He opened it without much caring or thought, his mind blissfully blank after his morning exercises.

_You will not occupy Box Five tonight._

The note, even shorter than Jinx's, infuriated the young man. He crumbled it in one hand, his fist tightening until his knuckles turned white. A sneer pulled his lips as he looked at the hand holding the note, and he strode quickly away into his parlor. He snatched up a box of matches from his desk and took one out. In his fervor, he snapped the match in half when he tried to light it. Restraining a snarl, he tried again. The match lit and flared brilliantly, and he set the note ablaze with the tiny flame. Robin dropped it on the table, knowing it would leave only a small, easily cleaned smudge on the hard lacquer finish.

He tried to grin at his small triumph when it was abruptly stolen from him. The flames that were burning away the notepaper turned from bright red to pure black. The black fire swelled and grew, and a swift wind that came from nowhere made the pillar dance and sway. Six red eyes—the same as those he had seen less than a week ago in his drunken fit—appeared in the flames, and a voice spoke.

_You will not occupy Box Five tonight!_

The pillar swelled and exploded in a shower of sparks. Robin frantically patted out the flames that burst into life on his clothes from the sparks and ran around stomping out multiple fires on his prized oriental rug. A burn mark, one he would not be able to clean, lay on the table in the center of tiny spark scars. Robin stared at it, his breath shallow and fast. He swallowed hard and forced his breathing to find a calmer pattern.

"Box Five is mine," he snarled aloud. "I won't give it up to some demon!"

----------

"Chaos? I thought Madame Kali watched every performance. I didn't see her in the audience." Starfire did not look up at Bumblebee's statement. It was not her place to answer why Kali was not in her usual place by the orchestra pit, nor was it her place to reveal how well Chaos knew of Kali's plans for the evening. She bit her lip, concentrating instead on running through both the blocking for the role of Serafimo and the lines for the role of the countess in her mind.

"She'll be here. She just doesn't want to run into—_Kitten_." The snarl that Chaos's voice degraded to when saying the single word was the closest any of the dancers had seen her to visible anger. She paused with a frown on her face before speaking again. "Go on—get to your places. I don't want any last minute running around."

A tradition of the theatre is to say a quick prayer for the success of the show before the curtain rises. While this was never expressly forbidden in the Paris Opera House, Chaos—the one who most people assumed would lead the prayer—never uttered a word. Starfire hurried to the wings of downstage left, whispering her prayer. She knew that her two friends would ask for strength and talent from that shapeless, faceless wonder the Church had deemed God.

While she acknowledged this higher being and asked for its aid in bringing success to the Opera House, it was not God that Starfire thought of to draw strength into herself. With the thought of Raven first and foremost in her mind, Starfire took a deep breath and waited for the curtain to rise.

----------

"_They say that this youth  
has set my Lady's  
heart aflame!_"

"_His Lordship, sure  
would die of shock!_"

"_His Lordship is  
a laughing-stock!_"

"_Should he suspect her, God protect her!_"

"_Shame! Shame! Shame!_

"_This faithless lady's  
bound for Hades!  
Shame! Shame! Shame!_"

The look of shock on Serafimo's face as the curtain parted was nothing short of hysterical. The kiss the countess and Serafimo shared was broken immediately while the countess's confidante, jeweler, hairdresser, and two attendants looked on in surprise, both real and exaggerated to hide the gleeful triumph of learning the truth behind the gossip. Before Serafimo could hurry away to hide, the countess snatched his wrist with a thoroughly wicked smile on her face.

The greatest mark of an actor's talent is not how well they take on the emotions of the character they portray—it lies in how well they mask how they truly feel. On that night, Starfire proved herself to be an incredible actress to all but the most experienced eye. She laid her hands upon Jinx as any young, eager lover would, scandalizing the audience with her character's audacity. The audience was utterly convinced that Starfire felt nothing beside the carefully limited lust of her character, and Jinx was too concerned with enjoying her victory to think otherwise.

Distraction seemed a common thing that night. The managers spent most of their time either discussing their good fortune in luring Jinx back into the theater or admiring Terra and Bumblebee despite their silent roles. Robin was torn between staring at Starfire and dwelling on the demons that plagued him. There were only two people in the Opera House who had focus enough to see past the skillful lies of the actors.

The first was Chaos, who stood in the wings of stage right. She watched, spotting the telltale twitches in Starfire's muscles and the blending of hurt and anger in her eyes that belied her every action. Only once did her eyes stray from the stage, and what she saw sent a tremor of fury dancing up her spine. Kali was standing in the back of the theater, her typical place taken up by Kitten. The blond woman was sitting with an overwhelmingly smug smile on her face, twisting and turning to gaze with pride on the full house that she had sold. Chaos bit back the urge to react, instead turning her eyes back to the stage.

High above, standing on the gantry that ran round the circumference of the domed ceiling, was Raven. She stood in shadows, looking out at the Opera House. Everything she saw, heard, and sensed made her scowl darken and her eyes burn a bloodier red. Just as Chaos did, she saw the miniscule signs that Starfire could hide from all but a choice few. She had watched the young woman for too long to be blind to the tightness of her fingers or the stiffness of her spine. Though she could not see Starfire's eyes from such a distance, she knew her pride was wounded.

With one eye still trained on Starfire, Raven turned a new focus on something very near the young woman. She saw Chaos's scowl and felt no surprise, despite the rarity of seeing the expression. It was an anger they both shared, and Raven knew that her anger at Kali's insult was nothing compared to the fury that Chaos somehow managed to keep in check. Raven had sworn to remedy the situation, and the time was drawing close.

Another split of her focus brought her third eye upon Box Five. The sight of the fop boy sitting in her box was an insult she knew had to be answered. He was arrogant, looking about the Opera House with an upturned nose. It was an act, she knew, he put on entirely for her. The strain, however, was clearly eating away at his nerves. His terror could not be suspended forever. Everything was falling into place to set everything right once more.

Raven's focus centered again on the stage. Serafimo's disguise—hastily thrown on with the entrance of Don Attilio, the countess's husband—had been ripped away. The don still stood just in the doorway, watching his wife celebrate her infidelity with the voiceless pageboy by mocking him. Malchior's false rage was convincing as Jinx sang with a grin on her face. Her mocking laughter—bursts of barely controlled vocalization—was not directed at him. Raven saw her eyes continually flick toward Starfire while she laughed. When the three chorus members joined in with her laughter, Raven knew the time had come.

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept _empty_?"

Her demand rang clearly throughout the Opera House and was answered by the abrupt halting of the music and a wave of gasps from the audience. She strode out from the shadows, stopping only when she was in full view. Hands still hidden within her cloak, she gestured. The chandelier before her swayed suddenly, metal pieces grinding together and creaking. The lights in the Opera House—whether electric or oil—flickered and sent the theater briefly into darkness. Those that saw the four glowing red eyes high above gasped again, one or two choice women shrieking with terror. The lights returned.

"The Phantom of the Opera!" Terra clapped her hands over her mouth the moment the words escaped her lips. The audience began to mutter amongst themselves, trying to determine if the event that was unfolding around them was real or staged.

"It's her," Starfire whispered. Jinx whirled on her furiously, her cheeks reddening so much that her carefully painted white face turned pink.

"Be _silent_, you little toad!" The hiss shot like an arrow through the Opera House. The audience fell silent, eyes darting back and forth between the black form on the catwalk high above and the painted diva on the stage. Jinx stepped toward the edge of the stage, clearing her throat. Monsieur le Blood nodded to her and signaled to the orchestra. The song began again from the top of the scene.

"_Serafimo, away with this pretense!  
You cannot speak, but kiss me in my _CO-ACK!"

The scowl Raven wore slowly turned to a smile, and she could not keep the sardonic laugh from bubbling up out of her throat. Jinx stood with her eyes wide, face fallen, and a hand at her throat. For a long moment, no one moved or spoke.

"Get on with it!" Cyborg snarled from the manager's box. The orchestra began to play again, at a point slightly further on in the song. Jinx swallowed forcefully and opened her mouth.

"CO-ACK!" If her mouth was open, a toad's croak would emerge. The song ruined, she tried desperately to speak. She croaked at Malchior, at Starfire, at Monsieur le Blood, and at the managers. With each horrible sound, she grew visibly more and more distressed. Her face grew progressively darker shades of pink, and her eyes began to shine. Cyborg and Beast Boy hurried from their box and down the staircase that would bring them quickly to the stage. Jinx tried to give a cry of despair, but only produced the loudest and rudest croak of all.

The curtain was brought in as Malchior led Jinx away. High above, the chandelier rocked back and forth, the glass pieces sounding of perfectly tuned chimes. Raven grinned, her four red eyes fading into two blue eyes. Cyborg and Beast Boy emerged from behind the curtain, pale and sweaty.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please, forgive us the interruption!" Beast Boy said, wringing his hands. "The performance will continue in ten minute's time with Mademoiselle Starfire playing the role of the countess!" The audience applauded, revealing their preference instantly.

"We will give you the ballet from act three in the meantime!" Cyborg said quickly. "Until then, please—enjoy our dancers!" The two men vanished beyond the curtain. Raven's grin calmed to a smile, and she slipped back into the shadows.

----------

Jinx sobbed in earnest for the first time in twenty years. She clutched at her throat as if preparing to strangle the toad's croaks before they could escape. Malchior tried to lead her toward her private dressing room, but she struggled to stop when she saw Mammoth. He stood on a catwalk three levels above the stage floor, a supremely stupid look upon his face. She stared up at him, her face made hideous by the mix of tears, sweat, makeup, and rage upon it.

She said one word and made one gesture: as she pointed toward Starfire, who was hurrying away in the opposite direction, she snarled, "Dead." Mammoth stood staring at Starfire for a moment, but looked back to Jinx and nodded slowly. Malchior glanced at the man before leading Jinx away quickly. Mammoth started along the catwalk quickly, unsure of how exactly to carry out the order that had been given to him. Before he could set his mind upon it entirely, he found himself standing before Chaos. He blinked, trying to recall when she had climbed up into the catwalks from the stage.

"Aren't you supposed to be changing the sets for the ballet?" she asked coolly.

"Get out of my way or I'll kill you too!" He lowered his shoulders and curled his hands into massive fists, unconcerned of what he had just said. Chaos stared at him. His eyes flicked nervously toward Starfire. Chaos turned, seeing the young woman just before she vanished into a dressing room. Her eyes widened a moment, and she turned back to Mammoth with them narrowed.

"I said move!" he snarled. She did as he said, but moved to stand in the center of the catwalk. He growled, pulling back one fist. Chaos smiled.

----------

Raven dropped down onto the fifth level catwalk, her landing silent. Before she could stand straight or even look about, a loud crack rang out above the sound of the violins. Her focus naturally turned to the source of the sound, and her eyes widened at what she found. Chaos lay on her back on the backstage floor, blood streaming from the corner of her mouth and her forehead. There was a sharp bend in her right arm just below the elbow, and her eyes were closed. Raven could only stand, her spine set in ice, and stare at the unmoving woman far below. Her blood was dark—it looked black from where Raven stood.

"_He's going to kill Starfire_." Raven heard the voice in her mind as Chaos's eyes opened. Her eyes followed Chaos's gaze to find Mammoth making his way cautiously along the third level catwalk. The ice in her body melted when she realized what had been said to her, filling her instead with an equally cold fury.

Mammoth smirked at his victory, walking slowly to muffle his footsteps. He was all of ten steps from where he had thrown Chaos over the side of the catwalk when the darkness appeared. It was a shimmering ring in the catwalk above him that grew from a pinpoint to a massive circle large enough to encompass even his broad shoulders. A flash of black fell through the shadows suddenly, landing silently on the boards before him.

The black shape began to move—a human shape standing straight. A pale face covered by a white mask appeared from beneath a curtain of long dark hair. The eyes opened to stare at Mammoth, twin diamonds filled with fiery red light. Mammoth shuddered and made to step backwards, but found his legs unwilling to obey. Beneath the dark blue cloak, blackness formed and burgeoned the body, and the head soon rose above his own. The back was hunched slightly, the eyes fixed upon his. With a horrible start, Mammoth knew that he stood before the Phantom of the Opera and her ire was his.

His hand shot out, not to strike at the Phantom, but to grab the nearest rope and pull himself off his useless legs. He began to climb frantically, his eyes wide despite the painful cold sweat streaming into them. Though he never would have looked back for anything, he had no need to. The Phantom rose up through the air from under him, unaffected by gravity as she matched his speed easily. He gave a cry and let go of the rope. Mammoth fell backwards, crashing on the fifth level catwalk. He scrambled back to his feet and started to run away.

Rounding a corner, Mammoth finally let his eyes blink. When he opened them, the Phantom stood before him. Desperately, he threw a hard right hook. His fist smashed against a wall of shadows that appeared between his hand and the Phantom's face. Before he could pull his hand away, the shadows closed around it. With a vicious jerk, his arm was broken. More darkness covered his mouth before he could scream aloud. A flash of black sliced a gash on his forehead and sent blood streaming down his face.

The Phantom's gaze slowly turned away from Mammoth. He followed it, finding that she was looking down. Somehow, in his flight, Mammoth had brought them to stand exactly where they had started. On one side of the catwalk—where the Phantom's eyes looked to—was the area of backstage where the audience could not see. He saw, with his face paling to a sickly white, Kali and the two managers helping Chaos to her feet. That the woman was alive was something utterly unbelievable. Mammoth had thrown her down headfirst with all his strength. He knew that he had heard her neck snap.

He looked back at the Phantom, unable to look away even though he looked into the eyes that made his legs threaten to buckle. She looked back at him, staring and staring. Mind quickened by the pain of his broken arm, Mammoth's eyes widened when he realized the truth. The Phantom saw this and felt the rush of terror that ran through him. The shadows clenched around Mammoth's hand and mouth suddenly turned him about and disappeared. He looked back over his shoulder, but the Phantom was nowhere to be found.

Without another thought, Mammoth began to run. He went as fast as he dared to, but his usual skill was ruined by panic. He was third most talented at hurrying along the catwalks, his footing almost unshakeable at any other time. At that moment, with his arm broken and his fate obvious and imminent, he tripped over his own feet and was forced to grab the ropes supporting the catwalks more than once.

It was well known that Chaos was far more nimble on the catwalks than Mammoth, but it was not known that someone could surpass Mammoth but not Chaos. The Phantom strode swiftly along behind Mammoth, unencumbered by the rocking and shaking the man's frantic pace set the catwalk to. She leapt up onto the rope strung up as a guard against falling and ran atop it—a trick Chaos had once performed for the young ballet dancers. She passed by Mammoth and sprang further onward, her landing purposefully heavy. Mammoth pitched forward, the catwalk throwing him off his feet. The Phantom dodged to the side, letting him pass by. He flew clear over the side of the catwalk, beginning his plummet to the stage a good fifty feet below.

Before he could scream, Mammoth felt something wrap around his neck.

----------

Starfire, unable to keep a giddy smile from her face, hurried back toward the stage. She was in the countess's costume, and had found a single red rose waiting in her dressing room. With the utmost caring and silent thanks, she had pressed her lips to the petals of the rose she knew Raven had left for her. Her spirits lifted to immeasurable heights, she had dressed as fast as possible and went back out to continue the opera.

As soon as she emerged backstage, she froze. She saw Kali leading Chaos away, unable to ignore the blood on Chaos's face or her broken arm. Hearing running footsteps above her, she turned her gaze upward in time to see everything.

Starfire saw Mammoth begin to fall and watched the Phantom expertly throw a lasso made of shadows around his neck. She stared as the lasso tightened and cut off Mammoth's cry of horror and found herself unable to turn away even as the man plunged toward the ballet dancers on the stage far below. Abruptly, the lasso grew taut. Mammoth jerked to a halt, the sound of his neck snapping like the crack of a whip. His feet dangled, twitching, within reach just over the ballet dancers' heads. There was a moment of silence before the screams began.

The audience were first: the women shrieked and the men gave bellows of astonishment. The ballet dancers, confused, began to look about. Bumblebee gave a blood-curdling scream when she saw Mammoth's feet above her head. In a mad panic, the dancers ran from the now-unmoving body. The black lasso flickered out of existence, letting the corpse fall to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do not panic!" Beast Boy howled from the manager's box. "Please, remain in your seats!"

The Phantom turned away, a smile on her face. She started to walk away, but her gaze traveled downward for another glance. Starfire's eyes were on her. Starfire saw the red light in her eyes and the smile on her face. Tucked away quietly behind the rage of the Phantom, Raven felt utter and abject horror. Starfire took a step backward, her eyes wide and her face ashen beneath her makeup. Before anything could be done, Starfire spun on heel and ran away.

"It was an accident!" Cyborg roared. "Just an accident!" As he spoke, the chandelier began to rock back and forth. The creaking of the metal grew louder and louder, but Raven did not turn to watch the climax of the evening. She slipped away into the shadows, hurrying to hide in them.

Even if the lights had not flickered for a sudden moment, no one would have seen the black flames burn away bits and pieces of the chains holding the chandelier in place. It pitched violently, the momentum of its swinging to and fro throwing it toward the stage. The audience screamed again, running from the massive chandelier.

Kitten—the woman who Jinx had recommended and who had replaced Kali—started to stand. One leg would not move, as something gripped her ankle painfully tight. She looked down to find a hand reaching up through the floor as if it were the hand of an intangible ghost. The instant before the chandelier crashed down upon her head, Kitten realized that she recognized the hand.

—_to be continued—_


	10. Chapter 9

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 9

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

"'Two hundred kilos on the head of a concierge!' Her only epitaph, and it manages to be wrong."

Starfire jumped and turned about. Standing in the doorway of the stairwell that led down into the Opera House was Chaos. Bandages were wrapped around her head, and the arm that had been broken the night before was held up in a sling. Dimly, Starfire noticed the stark contrast between the white bandages and the black hair and clothes they covered. In her free hand Chaos carried the morning's paper. As she looked at the front page's headline, she smiled.

"I can't say I'm too terribly upset," she chuckled. "She deserved all eight hundred kilos. Too bad about the chandelier though. It's a wonderful thing, but they decided to put it in storage." Starfire shuddered. The smile on Chaos's face was vicious and triumphant—exactly like the one she had seen on the face of the Phantom. For a moment, she would have felt no surprise if Chaos's eyes multiplied and began to glow red. The smile faded away abruptly as Chaos turned to look at Starfire. "I heard you locked yourself in your dressing room for most of the day. Why come out to the roof now—at dusk when it's snowing?"

Starfire did not answer. Chaos lay the newspaper aside and began to walk toward the young woman, careful though the layer of snow on the roof was barely more than a centimeter. As she drew closer, she saw the dark circles under Starfire's eyes and the rose held in her limp fingers. Her clothes were wrinkled—a sure sign that, when coupled with her drained expression, showed she hadn't slept at all.

"I wanted to feel the snow," Starfire said quietly. "The cold." Chaos chuckled, stopping when she stood at Starfire's shoulder.

"Something other than what you've been feeling, yes?" Starfire nodded, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. The snowflakes fell on her eyelids. She felt a hand on her back and opened her eyes quickly. Chaos smiled at her. "You were falling." She pushed slightly, rocking Starfire forward from her tenuous position on her heels. "I don't suppose you'd like to talk?"

"About last night?" Chaos shrugged at the question, walking past Starfire to the high ledge of the roof. She brushed a large patch of snow from the ledge and sat down. A small gesture—a slow sweep of her hand with its palm upwards—to the clear space beside her was an invitation that Starfire did not refuse. She sat down, barely aware that the stone beneath her was hardly as cold as she expected it to be.

"About anything," Chaos said. "Things seem to be speeding up, don't they?" Starfire nodded, looking with half-closed eyes at the ring on her left hand. Her gaze shifted to the rose, and her thumb slowly caressed one of the petals.

"I know who killed Mammoth," she murmured.

"Everybody does," Chaos replied simply, shrugging once more. "The Opera Ghost."

"I know who really did it," Starfire continued. "I know who the Opera Ghost is." For a moment, Chaos did not reply. Starfire did not look up to see the smirk on the woman's face.

"Do you now?" she asked. "I don't suppose she's the one who gave you that ring and the rose?"

"How did you know?" Starfire asked, turning to face the other woman.

"You've been staring at them this whole time," Chaos said. "You're confused because you don't know what to think of her. Is that correct?"

"What would _you_ think of a murderer who loves you?" The sharp, quick counter made its mark. Chaos's smirk vanished abruptly, leaving behind a look of faint bewilderment. Starfire turned her gaze back to the rose, thumbing its petals with a heavy sigh. Chaos glanced at the young woman's forlorn and weary expression before looking at the snow on the roof before her.

"Did you know that Mammoth was going to kill you?" The simple question made a mark far stronger than Starfire's counter had. The young woman's spine snapped into an upright, stiff position, her eyes widening. She clutched at the rose, careful not to bruise the petals anymore than she already had.

"Mammoth—he had no quarrel with me," she said. "He was—he drank, but he was a good man. The little girls in _your_ ballet liked him! How can you say that he wanted to kill me?" Chaos smiled, turning to look at Starfire's wide, shocked eyes.

"How on earth do you think this all happened to me?" she asked. She lay her left hand on the sling her right arm was in before reaching up and tapping at the bandages wrapped round her head. Starfire paused, trying to sputter out an answer.

"I thought—the Phantom," she mumbled. Chaos shook her head slowly, still smiling.

"No," she said. "She must have been near us when Mammoth threatened to kill me if I didn't move. He said he would kill me 'too,' and looked at you. I wouldn't move." She chuckled, turning to look up at the gray sky and snowflakes above. "He threw me from a third-level catwalk, Starfire. I was lucky I didn't break my neck." Starfire set her eyes on the roof of the Opera House, unable to think of a reply. Chaos had never lied to her—there was nothing to suggest that what she said was not the truth. Tears welled suddenly in her eyes.

Chaos glanced down and saw the single wet streak on Starfire's face. She sighed and reached out, gently wiping away the trail the tear had left behind. The touch brought Starfire's mind back into focus. She sniffed mightily and rubbed at her eyes, the long sleeves of her dress absorbing the tears that had not fallen. She became aware of the cold, beginning to shiver, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Let's go back inside," Chaos murmured, standing. "It'll only get colder." Starfire nodded, taking the woman's hand when it was offered to her. She was pulled easily to her feet, and they began to walk carefully to the stairwell.

"Madame Dolan?" Starfire asked when they were halfway across the roof.

"Yes?"

"What are we performing next? Are we going to continue _Il Muto_?" Chaos chuckled.

"The managers told me that all performances are suspended for two weeks," she explained. "It's a bit of a vacation." Starfire nodded, stepping around a high pile of snow.

"May I go to Perros?" she asked. "I'd like to visit my family."

"Of course. You have enough money?"

"Yes. It'll only be for two or three days." Chaos nodded, holding open the door to the stairwell. Starfire passed through the door, but stopped only a step past the threshold. She looked back at Chaos, smiling faintly. "Thank you, Madame Dolan. You've done so much to help me." Chaos smiled in return.

"I do try." Starfire laughed quietly before walking further into the stairwell. Chaos followed her, closing the door behind them.

Raven stepped out from behind one of the angelic sculptures, staring at the closed door of the stairwell. Her mask was held limply in one hand. She had gone to the roof to feel the first real snowfall on her face, and had hidden quickly when Starfire emerged from within the Opera House. In the many minutes before Chaos had arrived, Starfire had simply stood by the ledge of the roof, letting the snow drift down onto her shoulders. Raven had watched her longingly, desperate to explain what had transpired the night before. Her voice and whatever tiny shred of resolve that she gathered in herself had shattered when Starfire spoke.

"Raven," Starfire had whispered, her voice smooth as silk despite her weeping through the night. "Oh, Raven—why?" Raven did not know what answer she could have given if she spoke at that moment. There were a myriad of reasons for her actions. Her demon's blood had dampened and twisted her natural instinct to preserve life enough to allow her to kill. She loved Starfire enough to murder to protect her. Mammoth wanted to kill Starfire. It all added up with the use of logic, but compassion and mercy often overlook logic.

Raven sensed the anguish of a heart torn between love and fear within Starfire. In that moment, no logic could sway Starfire toward love; it would drive her only to fear. For that reason, she had remained quiet, forcing herself to be still and silent.

Starfire's plans to travel to Perros-Guirec was nothing Raven found odd. Her father and sister were buried there, and winter was when they had perished. It was a grim anniversary that Starfire was faithful to honor. Raven had never before followed Starfire anywhere outside the walls of the Opera House. It was a mark of respect, one that she did not want to take away. Despite this, Raven knew how somber and calm Starfire became when she visited Perros-Guirec. It would be a perfect opportunity—one she would not pass up.

She started to move, but froze when she heard a faint crackling sound. The newspaper Chaos had left behind vanished in brilliant black flames. When the flames died, a golden violin and its bow lay in the paper's stead. A note was tucked carefully between the gold strings. Raven strode quickly to it, taking the note from the strings and reading it.

_Play something for her when you're there._

Raven smiled and picked up the violin.

----------

"Madame Kali—we'd like to officially apologize for our behavior," Cyborg said. His voice was shaky and high-pitched. The bags under his eyes were darker than his skin. Beast Boy was of a similar state, the pallor of his skin giving him the look of a man constantly on the verge of being violently ill. He nodded both at Cyborg's words and at Kali, who sat in a chair across from them. "We would also like to offer you the position of box-keeper—perhaps with a raise in pay?" Kali shook her head, smiling slightly.

"I'm happy to work," she said. "I don't need any raise in my pay." She chuckled, brushing a piece of lint from her black breeches. "Besides, the money you give to me in a raise will just come out of the money you need to pay the Opera Ghost." Beast Boy let out a strange squealing sound, the nervous tic of the muscles near his eyes growing more and more pronounced.

"Yes, the Opera Ghost," Cyborg sighed. "About that…in her last note, she said that you would know what to do with the—the—payment." Kali nodded, and the tiny sliver of relief was obvious on Cyborg's face. "Then—what shall we do?"

"Do you have the fifty thousand francs?" Cyborg turned to Beast Boy, who started and hurried out of his chair. He went immediately to a small safe, spinning the dial to unlock it.

"Yes," he said distractedly. "We withdrew the money this morning." He opened the safe and gathered the small, thick stack of thousand franc notes into his hands. He turned about and returned to the desk, laying the money upon it before sinking into his chair. "Um…what do we do now?"

"Put it into an unmarked envelope and seal it," Kali replied. Cyborg and Beast Boy hurried to do as she said, their hands colliding when they reached for the money as one. Cyborg quickly found an envelope while Beast Boy shuffled the money into a neat stack. They put the money inside it and sealed it with wax.

"Now what?" Beast Boy asked. Kali held out one hand, and Beast Boy quickly gave her the envelope.

"I'll deliver it to Box Five," she explained. She stood up, starting to turn toward the door. "You two are free to follow me and make sure _I'm_ not the one taking the money." Cyborg and Beast Boy winced and remained in their chairs. Kali went out of the room, leaving the door open. It was many minutes that the two men simply sat and stared at the doorway. Beast Boy slowly began to stand up.

"Are you insane?" Cyborg snapped. "We've only gotten her back by the skin of our teeth!"

"I'm not saying that she's stealing the money!" Beast Boy protested. "She said that we could follow her, and I want to see if the Ghost actually takes the money from Box Five!" He walked out of the door quickly, hoping to rejoin Kali before reaching Box Five. Cyborg sighed, drummed his fingers on the desk once, and went after the shorter man. The three made their way to Box Five. Graciously, Kali showed the two men the small ledge beside the chairs where patrons would typically place their drinks or small items. After giving the envelope to Beast Boy to feel and see that the money was still inside, she laid it on the small ledge.

"You can stand guard if you like," Kali said. "The Opera Ghost will take the money even if you're in the box." She turned away from them, walking toward the door.

"Aren't you going to stay?" Beast Boy asked.

"No, monsieur," Kali replied. "I don't have any need to hear from the Ghost right now. Besides, I have to sort out the demands for refunds." Beast Boy uttered that strange squealing noise as she strode out of the box. He collapsed in a chair, holding his head in his hands, while Cyborg slowly sat down in the chair next to him. Cyborg kept his eyes upon the envelope filled with money, blinking only when the burning in them forced him to do so.

"I shouldn't be here," Beast Boy murmured.

"If this is a cry for pity, you won't be having any from me," Cyborg replied. "Go to Terra if you want sympathy." He sighed, turning away from the money to quickly apologize for his rudeness.

"But that's just it!" Beast Boy said, his back bending further. "I'm supposed to be getting ready for my evening with Mademoiselle Terra!" He groaned, putting his head between his knees. "She agreed to having dinner with me, and I want everything to be perfect! God only knows that she needs a pleasant night after what happened."

"As does Mademoiselle Bumblebee," Cyborg said softly. Beast Boy's head rose up and turned to look at the larger man. There were weary lines in both of their faces, and sadness in their eyes. "I'm not worried for the Opera House much anymore. We're doing what the Ghost wants—she won't try to bring down another chandelier on our heads."

"But that's not why we're agreeing to her demands," Beast Boy sighed, a small, knowing smile on his face. "I wouldn't mind very much if she drove Mademoiselle Jinx off again." They shared a private, quiet chuckle. "If that happened, we'd be able to bring Mademoiselle Starfire back as our leading soprano. She'd bring in more than enough money."

"More than enough for comfortable lives," Cyborg said, his voice lilting musically for a moment. "More than enough for the Opera Ghost." He chuckled, rubbing his forehead. "The singers are rubbing off on me."

"If we have enough money, then we won't have to worry about the Opera Ghost's anger," Beast Boy said slowly. "Then I wouldn't have to worry about Terra's safety." He drew in a sharp breath, realizing what words had escaped his mouth. Cyborg laid a hand on the other man's shoulder, smiling slightly.

"Nor I about Bumblebee's," he said. They said nothing for a moment, but then moved in unison. They reached for their pockets, fumbling to retrieve nearly identical jeweler's boxes. They turned back to each other, holding out the boxes and opening them carefully. For another long moment, they simply stared at the other's box and the diamond rings within. The moment passed and they began to laugh.

"Remarkable women, aren't they?" Beast Boy asked.

"Indeed they are." Cyborg closed the box in his hands, but sat regarding it for a while longer. He started suddenly, spinning about. Beast Boy looked up from the ring in his hands, his eyes widening. The envelope, once so obviously stuffed full of money, was sagging curiously. Cyborg rushed from his chair and snatched the envelope, his convulsive grab crushing the empty envelope between his fingers. He gawked, unfolding the envelope. The wax seal was intact, but he broke it to look inside.

"It's gone?" Beast Boy asked.

"It's gone," Cyborg replied. He sighed, shaking his head. "Silently, and without opening the envelope. By God, she is a ghost." He sighed again and folded the envelope. He turned about, smiling weakly at Beast Boy. "Nothing we can do now, is there?"

"Nothing but get ready for tonight." Beast Boy stood up, closing the jeweler's box and slipping it back into his pocket. Cyborg, still shaking his head slightly, went to the open door of the box. He gestured formally, allowing Beast Boy to exit the box first. He closed the door behind him, and the two men went their separate ways to hurry home and prepare for the evening.

----------

"I can't believe it—both of you?" Starfire found herself able to smile at the giddy laughter that answered her. Terra and Bumblebee nodded, helping each other to prepare.

"Beast Boy asked me just the other night," Terra said. "He was so nervous I thought he was proposing!" She giggled with a broad smile on her face.

"Stop it!" Bumblebee said. "You'll wind up looking like a clown if you don't stop squirming!" Despite her commands, there was an eager smile upon her face that matched Terra's. Terra took a deep breath and forced her face into a perfect canvas for Bumblebee to use. Eager to finish her task and have it performed on her in turn, Bumblebee carefully applied a fine smattering of blush on Terra's cheeks.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Starfire asked.

"Can you get my dark green dress?" Bumblebee asked. "Terra? Which dress for you?"

"Blue," Terra said quickly in reply. "Thank you." Starfire did as her friends asked, opening their trunks and finding the dresses in question. As she laid them carefully side by side on Terra's bed, the two young women switched roles. With a trained eye, Terra selected the proper shade of blush for Bumblebee's dark cheeks and brushed it on.

"I'm surprised you're just going to Perros," Terra quipped, her focus mostly upon her task.

"I have to visit my family," Starfire replied.

"I know, I know," Terra said. "But you don't have any other plans?" She grinned slyly. "A secret rendezvous?"

"With who?" Terra and Bumblebee both froze, shocked into stillness by the honest confusion in Starfire's voice.

"Le Vicomte de Wayne has been asking after you almost every day," Terra explained. "Haven't you been meeting with him at all?"

"No, and I don't intend to," Starfire replied coolly. "I have no reason to seek his company."

"Starfire, think about it," Terra said. "He's handsome, he's rich, and he wants you very much. Why does he seem so terrible to you?"

"I don't want someone to want me! I want someone that I love and who loves me in return!" Terra and Bumblebee started at the sudden burst of anger. It was such an uncommon thing that even Starfire was surprised by it. She thought of her words, and the first thing that swept into her mind was Raven. Silence reigned for a moment where Terra and Bumblebee did not move and Starfire lost herself in her thoughts.

Certainly weariness had a hand in her agitation. She had not slept during the night, and it was well past the early sunset of winter. Part of her was terrified, but torn. She was worried that sleep would again elude her, but she also feared dreaming of the Phantom should she manage to slip away into sleep. Another part of her—a part that grew stronger and more adamant as the days went by—cried out for sleep purely for the chance to catch a glimpse of Raven.

Loneliness again threatened to overwhelm Starfire. Her body and heart ached with Raven's absence, and her mind was nearly drained with trying to understand everything that was happening. She wanted to leave for Perros-Guirec, hoping that her mind could be cleared even slightly. With a heavy sigh, she turned to look at her friends.

"Forgive me," she murmured. "I did not mean to act so rudely."

"It's all right," Bumblebee replied.

"We understand what you mean," Terra agreed.

"I think I do, anyway," Bumblebee said, a smile appearing on her freshly painted lips. "It explains Terra and Beast Boy, anyway." Terra turned to protest as Starfire chuckled, but saw the consoling smile on Bumblebee's face. She lifted her head high for a moment, crossing her arms, but could not find it in herself to hold the falsely angry pose for long. She dissolved into giggles, and Bumblebee joined in the laughter. As Terra and Bumblebee hurried to put on their dresses, Starfire set about packing a small bag for her trip.

She was finished far sooner than Terra and Bumblebee, and quietly sat thinking. After a mere moment, she took a small piece of notepaper from a stack on her nightstand and quickly wrote something upon it. With a promise to return as fast as she could, Starfire hurried out of the dormitories. She went through the halls, ignoring all other things but her task. It took her a mere three minutes to reach the door of the quarters Chaos and Kali shared. She knocked politely on the door, waiting until she heard a muffled reply for her entrance.

"What can I help you with, Starfire?" Chaos asked, looking up from the book in her lap when the young woman entered. Starfire closed the door behind her, holding the note carefully behind her back when she did not see Kali in the room.

"I was—hoping that Madame Kali was here," Starfire replied. "I wanted to see if she could—I wanted to ask her something." She sighed and shrugged, putting a smile on her face. "It's nothing, I suppose. I'm sorry for bothering you, Madame Dolan." She began to turn about.

"What is it that you want delivered to the Opera Ghost?" Starfire froze with her hand on the doorknob. She turned about slowly, blinking at the smile on Chaos's face. "I'll make sure it's delivered, Starfire, whatever it is." For a long moment, the young woman stood speechless. She walked to Chaos and handed her the note, a smile appearing on her face.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you." Chaos smiled at her.

"Don't you have a train to catch?" she asked. Starfire blinked, coming out of her small, self-induced trance.

"Yes," she said. "Yes—my friends and I have to go. Thank you, Madame Dolan." She hurried out the door, closing it gently behind her. Chaos waited until the young woman's footsteps faded into the distance before looking at the note in her hand.

_I want to see you again. Please, Raven. —Koriand'r_

----------

Robin arrived at the Paris Opera House fairly late in the evening, his mind set upon both demanding a refund for his purchase of Box Five and inquiring after Starfire once again. He went immediately to the box office, quietly confused at the lack of activity in the lobby and hallways. The only two people he saw were Chaos and Kali, and only when he reached the box office. Kali sat in the office itself, leaning on the counter that opened the wall to customers. Chaos stood just beyond the counter, speaking quietly.

"She's going to Perros?" Robin arrived in time to hear Kali's smiling reply to Chaos. He hurried to cross to the two women, his quick footfalls drawing their attention.

"Who's going to Perros?" he demanded. Kali stared at the man with a faint scowl on her face. Chaos did not look at him, a smile slowly curving her lips.

"Mademoiselle Starfire," she said. Kali's expression shifted immediately to surprise as she turned toward Chaos. Robin, on the other hand, was absolutely elated.

"Perros then?" he asked. "Where in Perros?"

"The cemetery," Chaos said simply. Robin grinned and turned away, almost running in his fervor to leave for Perros-Guirec. Had he been a wiser man or used his formidable observational skills, he might not have gone at all. He did not suspect or even see the smile on Chaos's face, nor did he see the furtive wink that she gave to Kali. He concerned himself only with hurrying to the station to wait for the next train to Perros-Guirec.

—_to be continued—_


	11. Chapter 10

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 10

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

Carrying a small bouquet, Starfire walked into the Perros-Guirec cemetery. It was an empty place beside the dead and their various grave markers. Snow had covered the ground and piled atop tombstones and angelic statues. Wearing a dark violet dress and a black wrap to protect against the chill, Starfire was not a child still in mourning but a woman paying her respects. She made her way quietly through the graveyard, respectfully avoiding stepping on the graves.

She had arrived late the previous night and stayed at an inn. Sleep had come to her, but her dreams were only of music. It was an epiphany she had only heard of—one Raven had tried once to describe. Starfire had asked how anyone could compose original music or the lyrics to a song—how an artist created their art. Raven had been silent with thought for many minutes, but Starfire waited patiently for an answer.

The simple answer was that of the muse: something that gave the artist their moments—brief or nigh unending—of divine inspiration. Raven had explained that music was always in her mind. It was slightly more of a struggle to create lyrics to the songs she had constantly playing in her ears, but it was a challenge Raven was more than willing to rise to.

Her stride slowing, Starfire thought back on the song she had heard in her dream. She began to hum the opening of it, her focus drifting back and forth between the song and Raven. There was no question that the song was meant for the masked woman. Unable to care if there was anyone else in the cemetery, Starfire began to sing.

"_You were once  
my one companion…  
you were all  
that mattered…  
You were once  
a friend and lover—  
then my world  
was shattered…_"

Her sweet soprano voice was low and quiet as she voiced the title she had come to regard the masked woman with. Raven had never touched her as a lover would, but Starfire knew of no other way to describe how she felt. No other person had come to mean so much to her, and she was more than willing to consider Raven her lover.

"_Wishing you were  
somehow here again…  
wishing you were  
somehow near…  
Sometimes it seemed,  
if I just dreamed,  
somehow you would  
be here…_"

When waking up that morning, the first few moments of Starfire's thoughts were devoted to a quiet regret that her dreams had not included Raven as closely as they often did. Though she had grown calm through sleep and thought, she still ached without Raven.

"_Wishing I could  
hear your voice again…  
praying that I  
always would…  
Dreaming of you  
will help me to do  
all that you dreamed  
I could…_"

Starfire knew that Raven had brought about all the change in her. Music had come to her and she was always inspired to sing when the mere thought of Raven entered her mind. Raven had believed in her, and Starfire's abilities could only grow because of it.

"_Passing bells  
and sculpted angels,  
cold and monumental,  
seem, for you,  
the wrong companions—  
you were warm and gentle…_

"_Too many years  
fighting back tears…  
Why can't the past  
just die…?_"

How to forgive Raven for what had happened was something Starfire had not yet discovered. What she did know was that she needed to hear the story from Raven. Despite everything, Raven had remained gentle with Starfire, and the loneliness the masked woman imposed upon herself seemed unspeakably cruel to Starfire.

"_Wishing you were  
somehow here again…  
hoping to never  
say goodbye…  
Try to forgive…  
teach me to live…  
give me the strength  
to try…_"

Tears began to well in Starfire's eyes. She swore that if Raven ever appeared again, she would give the masked woman a gift of the song. Hours upon hours of thoughts and dreams had finally delivered her to this realization, and she loathed that she had only bothered to think of it when so many things were going wrong.

"_No more memories,  
no more silent tears…  
No more gazing across  
the wasted years…  
Never say  
goodbye._"

She knelt down and split the bouquet, laying equal amounts of flowers upon the graves of her father and sister. Her breath was ragged with her tears, and her belief that only the graves had heard her song fueled them even further. Starfire bowed her head, putting her hands over her face.

At first, she did not believe that she heard the soft notes of the violin. The melody was perfect and familiar. It had been years since she had last heard it, but it was a favorite piece. As the music continued to play, Starfire lifted her head. She looked about, searching for the musician. When sight provided no answer, she relied upon her hearing. She stood up and began to walk from the graves, following the music. Just past a large statue of an angel was the largest tomb in the cemetery. Its entrance was elevated on a small pyramid of stone, and before it was a carefully crafted set of stairs. Starfire stopped instantly when she saw the figure sitting upon those stairs.

Raven sat with a golden violin nestled under her chin and her mask on the stair to the right of herself. With the gold bow in her long fingers, she coaxed from the violin the best rendition of _The Resurrection of Lazarus _Starfire had ever heard. Her eyes were open, tranquility shining in the dark blue Starfire loved. The music slowly ended with Raven drawing the bow back across the strings to sound them once. She looked up from the bow, eyes meeting Starfire's.

"Koriand'r is a beautiful name," she murmured. Starfire blushed both at the compliment and the small smile Raven gave her.

"You received my note?" she asked. Raven nodded, laying the violin by the mask.

"I was going to come here anyway, but I'm glad that I'm not just following you." She laid her cloak down on the left side of herself and gestured to it—a slow sweep of her hand with its palm up. Starfire paused, trying to remember where she had seen such a gesture before. "Please, sit down." Starfire did as Raven asked of her, sitting down on the soft cloak in lieu of the hard stone.

"No one but Madame Dolan has been able to pronounce my name," she said quietly. "You say it beautifully."

"Would you prefer that I call you that instead of 'Starfire?'" Raven asked. Starfire shook her head, smiling as she brought her knees to her chest.

"I enjoy both of them," she said. "If you like, you can call me Koriand'r when we're alone."

"You still want to be left alone with me?" Starfire's smile did not waver, her eyes shining for a moment.

"We're alone now." Raven paused, blinking once. She opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words she wanted. Her mouth closed and she turned her gaze to the ground. "Please, Raven—tell me what happened. Madame Dolan told me some of it, but you need to tell me everything." Raven kept her eyes on the ground, her hands closing into fists on her knees. Starfire reached out and took one of Raven's hands, holding it in both of hers. "Please." Raven nodded, lifting her eyes to look at Starfire.

----------

Robin ran from the tree he had tied his horse to, cursing how far from the cemetery he had to stop. He slowed to a walk when the high walls came into view, forcing his breathing and his heartbeat to reach a normal cadence. Walking with his head held high, he came to the entrance of the cemetery. He paid no attention to the person wrapped in a black cloak that sat on a large loose stone before the entrance. The viscount whole-heartedly believed that it was merely a beggar, and he had no patience or time for beggars.

As he tried to pass into the cemetery, a sharp sting to his cheek made him recoil instinctively. The hand he pressed over the sting came away with a line of blood in the palm. He looked back at the person in black, but could not see their face. Their head was bowed, and the hood of the cloak was pulled up. Robin, his mind at last spurred to real thought by pain, noticed that their folded arms were in different positions from when he had first seen them.

"If you're trying to rob me, you'll be in a sorry state when I deliver you to the police," he snarled. He received no response and let out a low growl before starting again toward the entrance of the cemetery. Only honed reflexes kept him from rushing into the blade that was suddenly put in front of his neck. Again he recoiled, turning to stare down the length of the blade. It was a one-sided sword, and a clawed hand gripped it. The person in the black cloak began to stand, holding the sword steadily at throat level. As their head rose, Robin's body tensed. Six glowing red eyes looked at him from the shadows of the cloak's hood, a fanged smile just below them.

"You!" Robin hissed. "Monstrous thing—I'll send you back to hell!" He reached into his suit jacket, drawing—not a pistol—but a small metal cylinder. He twirled the cylinder in his hands, and both sides extended to create a staff. Bending his knees slightly, Robin fell into a fighting stance that was as familiar to him as breathing.

Though his parents had been great philanthropists, le Comte de Wayne—Bruce Wayne—was a reclusive world-traveling genius. He went from country to country, learning cultures and languages as he went. One of his greatest strengths was his inventiveness. Much of the high level technology in the world at that time was either created by or produced by Wayne and his company. The man was almost disgustingly rich, and he would have been reviled were it not for three things.

The first was his physical appearance. He was a handsome man, very much in good shape, and was never imposing though his sheer size could allow him to be. His natural charm was the second factor in his favor round the world. He was gracious to his allies and enemies alike, and women were prone to swooning when he entered a room. The final reason Wayne was so respected was because he had taken on a pitiful ward and transformed him into a viscount as famous as himself.

Richard Grayson's story was what inspired the world's sympathy. He had been a circus performer for all his life when his parents died in an accident. Wayne, who had been attending the circus on the day the accident took place, felt sorry for Grayson and decided to make the young man his ward. Grayson took on the nickname of Robin, and Wayne trained him both physically and mentally.

Though Robin was in good mental condition, it was his physical state that he put most of his effort into. He had taken a great liking to the martial arts of Asia, and had blended many styles together to create something unique and often unbeatable. His fascination with the staff as a weapon had inspired him to beg Wayne to create a transportable version, and Wayne had done so perfectly. The staff was made of a metal only recently discovered by Wayne himself, one that was reported to be one of the strongest in all the world. Wayne crafted small cylinders and put them together in a manner than would allow them to collapse. Small weights in the end cylinders allowed inertia to extend the staff when spun rapidly, and pressure-released locks kept the staff in said state.

Robin swung the staff low to the ground, lifting it in an arc to swipe at the sword. The blow connected, knocking the demon's arm and the sword up and away. Using his momentum, Robin twisted his hips and leapt up, his body spinning his foot toward the demon's smile. The smile grew in size as the demon leaned backward. Robin's kick missed by a full two feet, the demon's spine arching impossibly far. Before the man could return to the ground by gravity, the demon's hands were pressed against the ground while their legs lifted. The kick landed on Robin's back, flinging him forward onto the hard, cold ground. He rose as quickly as he could, ignoring the flares of pain that accompanied every small movement of the muscles in his back. The demon smiled at him.

----------

"Was Mammoth going to kill me?" Raven nodded.

"He was," she said. "I saw how badly he hurt Madame Dolan."

"But did you see him hurt her?" Starfire asked.

"There was no one else in the catwalks," Raven replied. "And I heard—my teacher's voice telling me that he was going to kill you."

"Your teacher's voice?" Raven nodded again, rubbing her right knee with one thumb. "What do you mean?"

"I was taught everything I know, Koriand'r. I was born with the ability to do everything that I have, but I had to be taught how to use those abilities. My teacher—she taught me how to read and write…how to play music and sing…even how to use my magic."

"Did she teach you how to use magic to kill?" The words tumbled quietly from Starfire's lips before she could stop them. The silence that swelled up was not broken by her hurried apology, however. Raven answered in an equally soft voice, her eyes still meeting Starfire's.

"She did."

"But—who is she?"

"She's a demon. I can't tell you anymore than that for now." Starfire looked down, eyes falling upon their entwined hands. She still held one of Raven's hands in both of hers, and, momentarily distracted, noticed how very warm the other woman's skin felt. "But you'll know soon. Everything is starting to come together."

----------

Robin charged forward, aiming his swing at the demon's head once again. Blood pulsed from wounds all over his body. The sword had proved to be sharp enough to slice through the metal staff, though the demon had only done so once. Carving gashes of varying length and depth or snapping bones with single blows seemed more enjoyable than depriving Robin of a weapon.

He drew close, but before he could begin his swing, the demon's fist shot out. The punch landed on his mouth, splitting his lower lip. His head rocked back, his body beginning to fall. He put his hands out to turn the fall into a retreating flip, but the slamming of his palms against the ground traveled up his arms and jostled his two broken ribs. Crying out, Robin began to crumble to the ground.

The demon's hand grabbed his knee as his legs fell. Robin was lifted back up into the air with a gentleness that belied the events of the past few minutes. He was brought up to eye level with the demon, the blood from his lip running painfully into his eyes.

"Monster," he spat.

"Thank you." The voice was the same as when he had heard it before: deep and rasping, echoed with the sound of crackling flames, and oddly familiar. "A compliment of sorts, I suppose."

"Your soul will burn in hell!"

"Oh, I will return to Hell one day—but not until long after you're dead."

"Then kill me and be done with it!" His defiant remark was met with a quick punch to his chest. He screamed as another rib was snapped. The demon chuckled.

"Not yet. Not yet. There are still plans to be finished. Besides—why cut my fun short?" The demon's smile widened even more.

----------

"Everything?" Starfire asked. Raven nodded.

"Yes," she said. "Every plan is going to come to an end soon. As soon as I finish the opera—then everything will be pulled together, and…"

"And what?" Raven paused, her eyes moving slowly to the ground.

"Koriand'r—do you want to stay at the Opera House?" Starfire blinked, her head tilting slightly to the side. When only silence answered her, Raven glanced up. She chuckled at the sight she saw, lifting her free hand to stroke Starfire's cheek. "You look like a little lost puppy." Starfire turned her face toward the touch, squeezing the hand she still held once.

"Why do you ask me such a thing?" she wondered aloud.

"I want to know what you want," Raven said gently. "I won't demand that you do what I want."

"But what is it that _you_ want? Why ask me if I want to stay at the Opera House?" Raven's eyes softened, her thumb caressing Starfire's cheek. She smiled slightly at the question, and Starfire felt a blush stain her cheeks while her heart skipped. It was a moment she did not want to end. Raven's gentle gaze, her faint smile, and the tenderness of her touch brought forth something Starfire had never seen before. At that moment—even with the dark circles surrounding her eyes, even with the thinness of her face, and even with the demonic mark on her forehead—Raven was beautiful. "You—you want to leave?"

"I want to be with you," Raven said in return. Her hand slipped away from Starfire's cheek to join Starfire's and her own on her knee. "But yes, I'd like to leave the Opera House."

"Where would you go?" Starfire asked. Raven smiled and chuckled, never letting her eyes stray from Starfire's.

"Everywhere," she said. "There are so many things I still haven't seen and music I haven't heard." Starfire saw the eagerness in Raven's eyes and suddenly felt a long-repressed flash of wanderlust run through her. Her eyes fell to their hands.

"Perhaps…_we_ could visit my home country?" She looked up with a shy smile. Raven's smile grew wider, eyes brighter than before.

"How could I refuse such an offer?" she asked. Starfire blushed, a giggle bubbling up out of her throat. Raven, finding the wonderful sound infectious, laughed as well. They calmed after a time, and Raven touched the gold ring on Starfire's left hand. She let her fingers rest upon it, feeling how warm it was from being on Starfire's hand. "Koriand'r?"

"Yes?"

"I want this ring to mean nothing less than what it means for other…" She trailed off a moment.

"Lovers?" Starfire asked, supplying the word in a low murmur. Raven smiled, the faintest tinge of pink touching her cheeks as she lowered her eyes.

"Yes," she said. "I want this ring to mean everything that it does for everyone else." She looked up. "Do you?" Starfire's eyes grew wide, but only for a moment. She soon smiled, gently removing her hands from Raven's. The ring was taken from her finger and put into Raven's hands, but Starfire shook her head at the crestfallen expression on the woman's face.

"I do," she whispered. "But—will you ask me again? As all others do?" Raven felt her throat tighten and her chest swell. She nodded and sank down on one knee before Starfire, taking the young woman's left hand. She paused, her muse whispering to her. Her throat loosened and she drew a deep breath, looking into Starfire's eyes.

"_Say you'll share with  
me one  
love, one lifetime…  
Lead me, save me  
from my solitude…_"

She gently put the gold band upon Starfire's ring finger, holding the hand tight between her own. Starfire could not stop the tears from welling in her eyes, her smile growing with every soft word.

"_Say you want me  
with you,  
here beside you…  
Anywhere you go  
let me go too—  
Starfire,  
that's all I ask of you._"

Starfire nodded, unable to speak, and lifted her hand to draw Raven's upward. She pressed a kiss against the knuckles of one of Raven's hands, letting her lips rest against warm, pale skin and closing her eyes. Raven slowly lifted her other hand and laid its palm against Starfire's cheek. Starfire opened her eyes, her head rising. They drew closer to one another, but seemed to freeze when a mere hair's breadth from the other's lips. Neither was sure who moved, but their lips finally met.

The kiss was more of a pleasure than either of them had dared to dream of. It was soft and warm, completing the bond that had been growing between them for so long. The embrace lasted only a short while, but the parting was a reluctant one. Both women smiled at each other, faint blushes staining their cheeks. Raven leaned forward again, and Starfire's smile only increased.

The distinctive crunch of snow shattered the calm moment. Raven rose to her feet instantly, her hand snapping away from Starfire's cheek. The mask was thrown into her palm by shadows, and she set it upon her face before turning slowly about. As she turned, Starfire stood up and drew naturally close to her. Raven put one arm out, moving to stand before Starfire as a guard.

A black shape strode out from behind one of the larger statues. Six glowing red eyes looked out from beneath the hood of the black cloak. As the figure came further around the statue, two things in their hands became visible. One was a sword. The other was a leg clad in the tattered remains of the most fashionable clothes.

Le Vicomte de Wayne let out a groan as he was dragged, unconscious, along the snow-covered ground. The demon flung him forward, and he tumbled to a halt at Raven and Starfire's feet. Starfire's wide eyes went back and forth between the demon and Robin's mangled, bloody body. Raven could only stare into the red eyes.

The demon swung the sword once, swiftly, to flick the blood from the gleaming silver blade. As they started forward, the sword vanished in a flash of black flames. Raven stepped aside, putting one hand on Starfire's shoulder to guide her to do the same. The demon's steps were easy and calm, and as they drew closer, they purposefully stepped on Robin's head, one clawed toe digging dangerously into his closed eye.

With a gentle hand, the demon picked up the golden violin and its bow. They turned about, looking at the two women. Raven bowed her head immediately, looking up only when the demon's hand fell upon her shoulder. The smile that curled on the demon's lips revealed just enough. As the demon walked away and vanished from sight, Starfire looked to Raven.

"That was your teacher." Raven nodded to the simple statement. She stared down at Robin, eyes flashing red for a moment. "Raven?"

"Yes?"

"Is he—?"

"No." Raven knelt down, putting two fingers on the man's forehead. She was quiet for a moment, sensing the injuries the man had gained in the last few minutes. "He'll live." She stood straight, holding out her hand to Starfire. "Shall we return to the Opera House?"

"We can't leave him here," Starfire protested. "Please Raven—I don't care for him anymore than you do, but we can't leave him here." The resolve to do just such a thing softened in Raven's mind. She faltered, looking back down at the man. Grimacing, she knelt down and put her hands over his prone form. Light outlined in shadows surrounded her hands, and she passed each hand slowly over the length of him. A number of the wounds on his legs healed, and his breathing grew stronger. Raven stood up again, looking neither at Starfire or Robin.

"He'll wake after we leave," she murmured. "He'll be able to reach the town and its doctor." Starfire sighed and smiled, reaching to take Raven's arm. The masked woman started, looking at Starfire in surprise. Starfire offered nothing but her consent, and it was more than enough for Raven. They left the Perros-Guirec cemetery, and Robin woke soon after their parting.

—_to be continued—_


	12. Chapter 11

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 11

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

When there is something very special waiting at the end of a period of time, that time can be an eternity for all involved. Three months can go as slowly as three years, and it was so for the patrons and occupants of the Paris Opera House. For Robin, the three months spent recuperating from his injuries were maddening. He was desperate for Starfire, but she would allow no news of herself to reach his ears.

Even Starfire's nearly limitless patience was tested. Her dreams were once again shared with Raven, and every time they spoke either waking or asleep, Starfire asked of the opera's progress. For the first six weeks, Raven promised that it was coming along swiftly. As the end of the three months and the start of January drew closer, her answers grew more and more vague, a secretive smile always on her face.

The reason behind the impatience of most everyone else in Paris was simple. When the New Year rolled about, the Opera House always threw a grand masquerade ball. The interior of the Opera House was open to the subscribers and the employees, but throngs of people still would cluster and dance in the street to the music and singing they heard from within.

Costume designers, mask makers, and tailors collected their best sales of the entire year just before the masquerade. It was a time for celebration and renewal. Cyborg and Beast Boy were eager to try their hands at the ball, their confidence burgeoned by the peace that had fallen on the Opera House. They planned for buffets of food and wine, instructing Monsieur le Blood to find a suitably large number of cheery songs for the dances that would occur.

It was shaping up to be one of the grandest masquerades ever held in Paris. Two days before the Saturday of the event, Raven came to Starfire in person while she sat on the roof. As Starfire had asked her, Raven did not wear the mask when they were alone.

"Have you made plans for the ball?" she asked, sitting in the space Starfire had cleared next to herself. Starfire nodded, leaning casually to put her head on Raven's shoulder. "What will you be dressed as?"

"A bride." Raven smiled, but gave a soft sigh.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know that I said we would leave when the opera was finished."

"Has it been finished?" Starfire asked, turning to look eagerly at Raven. The woman smiled and nodded.

"I would like it to be performed once," she explained. "Here—at the Opera House after the masquerade."

"But we're performing _Faust_ after the masquerade," Starfire protested. Raven shook her head, smiling secretively once again.

"That will change," she said simply. "Come now—go back inside and make sure you're prepared for a wonderful evening at the masquerade." She stood up and offered her hand to Starfire. The young woman took Raven's hand and was pulled easily to her feet. She barely had time to see the mischievous smile on Raven's face before the other woman pulled her close and wrapped them both in her dark indigo cloak. The chill of the snow around them vanished immediately in the warm folds. Starfire put her arms around Raven's waist, snuggling her head just under Raven's chin.

"I'll only have a wonderful evening if you're there," she murmured against Raven's shoulder. Raven smiled, petting Starfire's long red hair.

"I'll be there," she said. "I promise."

"What will you be?" Starfire asked. "How will I find you?" Raven chuckled and shook her head.

"That's my surprise," she replied. "I'll find _you_, Koriand'r. It won't be difficult to see the most beautiful bride at the party." Starfire flushed prettily, hugging Raven tighter for a moment. "Now go on. I'll see you Saturday evening." She led Starfire to the stairwell, reluctantly parting from the young woman. Starfire opened the stairwell's door, but paused before closing it again.

She turned about, facing Raven with a bright smile. She drew closer and kissed the woman slowly. Raven's hands cupped Starfire's cheeks naturally, their eyes closing. It was a good deal of time before Starfire pulled away. She smiled at the faintly surprised look on Raven's face, putting her hand on the doorknob.

"Until Saturday," she said. "I'll save you my first dance." She went through the door and vanished down the stairs. Raven stood dumbfounded, one hand lifting to press fingers against her lips. After a moment, she smiled broadly. Humming quietly, Raven swept away into the shadows, all too eager for Saturday to arrive.

----------

The first thing Robin did when released from the hospital was blatantly ignore his doctor's orders. He had been warned that his heart was still weak, and he should still rest in bed for several days lest the muscle be permanently damaged. Due to the fact that he had been released late Saturday morning, Robin hurried as fast as he could to the nearest tailor. He was fitted for a new suit, and he purchased the last black domino mask the shop had in within its walls.

He went back to his flat, noting that an invitation to the masquerade had been delivered to him. The man tidied himself quickly, shaving the stubble that had sprouted on his chin and slicking back his now shoulder-length hair. The evening came upon him too quickly, and he demanded that his driver spur the horses on dangerously fast. Robin arrived at the Paris Opera House just as the first fireworks were shot into the sky.

All around him were skeletons, devils, ghosts, and angels. Masks of every shade danced around him, the cheers of those that wore the masks ringing in his ears. Music echoed out from within the Opera House, growing louder as Robin strode quickly up the stairs.

"Vicomte!" He spun about to find a pair of skeletons advancing on him. He took a step backwards, his eyes narrowing even as the skeletons began to lift their masks. Beast Boy and Cyborg were revealed, their smiles massive.

"Vicomte!" Beast Boy said again. "So good to see you! Have you healed well?"

"I'm _fine_," the man replied tersely. "Where—?"

"Oh, good, good!" Cyborg interrupted. "It's wonderful to hear that."

"Yes, it is," Robin snarled. "Now where—?"

"Speaking of where, you haven't happened to see where Mademoiselles Terra and Bumblebee are, have you?" Beast Boy asked.

"I don't know and I don't care!" Robin snapped. "Now tell me where Starfire is!" Beast Boy and Cyborg started, looking to each other for a moment. Their expressions cooled when they returned their gaze to Robin, and their voices were less than jovial.

"I'm not quite certain," Beast Boy said.

"She's been refusing dance offers since arriving, so I hope you had a prior engagement if you want the first dance of the evening with her," Cyborg murmured. "If you'll excuse us, we need to find our fiancées." They readjusted their masks and strode away, leaving the man standing alone. He growled low in his throat before storming into the crowd.

In his pocket, he carried a small jeweler's box. He patted his hip a number of times to reassure himself that the box was still in his pocket, his eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of Starfire. Based on what Cyborg had said, he knew that Starfire would most likely be amidst a large crowd as the center of attention. Robin saw many large clusters of people, but Starfire was nowhere to be found among them.

He paused when he heard soft murmurs of astonishment. His gaze turned to the large stairway, where many other eyes were trained. The couple he saw looked the very height of elegance, and though he loathed them both, he could not turn his eyes away from Chaos and Kali.

Chaos was dressed in a suit cut to her lithe frame. The white dress shirt was crisp, its edges clearly defined against the inky black of the jacket buttoned neatly over it. The cuffs of the jacket were large and ornately designed: golden fabric with blood-red flames curling upward. A cape flowed from her shoulders, the inlay of it designed with ornate patterns of gold and red. As Chaos strode down the stairs, the heels of her boots sounding quietly to let the music play clearly, the patterns seemed to move with the ripples of the cape and the flickering light. From beneath the fedora on her head, Chaos smiled, her focus on the woman on her arm.

Kali wore something that was entirely new to Parisian society: a kimono. It could be separated into white and black, but the design was far more complex. Pure white began at the neck and shoulders, and red thread outlined black designs of wind-blown petals. As the eye naturally traveled downward, the white color began to gradually darken. The petal designs grew lighter, though the red trim remained vivid and bright. By the bottom of the kimono, the shades had switched. The majority of the cloth was black, with white petals dancing in a breeze captured only by the artisan's hand. Kali's smile matched Chaos's, a few strands of her gray hair slipping from the braid that fell down her back to hang before her face.

The two women stepped from the stairway, and the crowd parted. From a closer distance, the final pieces of their costumes could be seen. Around both of their necks were identical necklaces. Gold chain held up a perfect circle of black diamond, and a single ruby was set in the center. As Kali and Chaos made their way into the meandering crowd, Robin shook himself from his staring. The first dance was soon to start, and he still had not found Starfire. He hurried up the stairs, ignoring the painful thumping in his chest all the while.

----------

Starfire had seen so many masks emulating the Opera Ghost's that she wondered briefly if Raven had slipped a mask-maker a design. That year, the Phantom of the Opera was a popular figure to masquerade as. Many of these figures had asked for Starfire's assistance in the first dance, but she refused every person—Phantom or not—that asked. It was clear to Starfire that Raven had not yet appeared.

There were too many subtle things that told her to wait. None of her hopeful dance partners had the same effortless grace. None of their voices matched the voice that she loved to hear. No eyes were the same. Even those that came close in shade could not equal the intense gaze Starfire had come to feel on her very skin. She continued to stand alone, waiting and listening to the small portion of the orchestra play as a band.

"Mademoiselle Starfire." She turned, drawing in a breath to voice her refusal. She choked when she saw Robin standing close behind her.

"May—may I help you?" Starfire asked, taking a reflexive step backward.

"I insist that you share the first dance with me," Robin replied.

"I'm sorry," she said while shaking her head. "I've promised someone else the first dance." Robin stepped closer to her.

"I _insist_," he said. "It's the very least you could do."

"I will not break a promise, monsieur," Starfire murmured coolly. "Not for you, nor for anyone else."

"You wouldn't break a promise for your fiancée?" He drew the jeweler's box from his pocket, flicking it open with one hand to reveal the diamond ring while reaching for Starfire's arm. A slender, long-fingered hand grabbed his wrist. Starfire and Robin both turned, Robin with a scowl on his face and Starfire in wide-eyed surprise.

The figure that stood before them was a mystery that Robin could not decipher. The suit—a mirror of his own—was cut for a man, as was the red-lined cape that fluttered down from the shoulders, but the pale face that he could see beneath the white domino mask seemed feminine. The long blue-black hair was tied elegantly back, a few strands falling artfully before equally dark blue eyes. The person smiled.

"Forgive the interruption." Robin shuddered and tried to wrench his hand away. The voice was similarly androgynous, and he hated the power carried in the smooth sound immediately. "I do believe the young woman has a fiancée already." The hand pushed Robin's arm away before gracefully moving to Starfire. She smiled and offered her left hand in return, and Robin noticed the gold ring on her finger.

"Monsieur le Vicomte," Starfire said sweetly. "This is my fiancée." Robin's jaw tightened at the smile and nod the masked figure gave to him. He stood scowling at the pair of them, refusing to return even the slightest polite gesture. The music grew softer; a signal that the first official dance was soon to begin. "I've promised the first dance to my fiancée, monsieur. If you'll excuse us." She and the masked figure made their way toward the stairway, leaving Robin behind.

----------

"Thank you." Starfire lifted her eyes at the soft murmur. The masked face was impossible to read, but the softness of the eyes beneath the mask was all Starfire needed. She smiled at Raven as they moved smoothly through a waltz.

"Whatever for?" she asked in a similarly soft voice.

"You introduced me as your fiancée," Raven said, a smile curling her lips. Starfire could see the traces of a blush from beneath the mask, her own smile growing. "I suppose…a method to be rid of le Vicomte?"

"I would introduce you to anyone in the same way," Starfire replied. Only her natural ability to follow a beat kept Raven from falling out of step. Her self-defeating theory was shattered by the firmness of Starfire's voice and the honesty in her eyes.

"Thank you," she murmured again, even more quietly than before. Starfire blushed, her entire being softening as she gazed at Raven. They continued to dance, though in silence. After a moment, Starfire took a deep breath.

"Will you come to my dreams tonight?" she asked in a whisper.

"I don't think I could do anything else," Raven said in return. She saw how Starfire's eyes remained fixed at a point just past her shoulder, leaning her head down slightly in an attempt to catch the young woman's eyes. "Are you all right?" Starfire nodded, but slowly.

"I…would like to dance with you more closely," she said. She frowned at the vagueness of it all, loathing for a moment her inability to explain. "Without this space between us." She nodded at the foot of distance between them—the proper space for a waltz. Raven smiled and nodded, Starfire feeling a flood of relief that the woman understood.

"My last dance is reserved for you," Raven said. "I promise we'll dance as you want." Starfire smiled, her left hand squeezing Raven's arm. Their swaying stopped in time with the end of the music. All around them, other couples applauded the music, and Monsieur le Blood bowed. Before Raven and Starfire could join in the applause—before the thought of letting each other go even crossed their minds—Robin appeared.

"May I have the next dance?" He took Starfire's right arm by the wrist and pulled her away from Raven. Before either woman could protest, another piece of music began. Robin led Starfire away in a waltz that was little more than a hurried stride. He stopped moving only after glancing back over his shoulder.

"Good," he murmured. He put his right hand on Starfire's side, squeezing the wrist that was still clutched in his left. "He didn't follow." The waltz he led them in fell closer to the proper beat, but his dancing was inexplicably fast.

"What?" Starfire asked, blinking. She tried to ignore how very terribly her skin crawled from Robin's touch, discomfort overriding all other thought.

"Your supposed fiancée. He didn't follow." Starfire forced her face to remain impassive against her sudden flash of anger.

"That _is_ my fiancée," she hissed.

"There was no formal announcement," Robin replied. "Any man would want to show his prize."

"I am _not_ a prize," Starfire said, her voice darkening further. Robin laughed aloud, forcing her to spin abruptly.

"You will be my prize soon enough," he said as he drew her back from the spin. "Marry me."

"I am already engaged." She stopped dancing and pulled away, the music drawing to a close in time with her movement. Robin's smile faded into a scowl, and he opened his mouth to speak. Before a word could slip past his twisted lips, footfalls sounded clearly from behind Starfire. The young woman turned, a smile appearing when she saw Raven striding toward her.

"My dear mademoiselle," the masked woman said. "Will you honor me with the privilege of the next dance?" Starfire nodded and let Raven take a gentle hold of her hand. Robin, still unable to identify the voice, stood with his scowl growing with every moment.

"It would be my pleasure," she replied. Without another word to Robin, they were away, moving smoothly through the other waltzing couples. Raven's touch was soothing to Starfire, and again she felt the urge to lay her head upon the other woman's chest. Smiling faintly, she looked up into Raven's eyes. The sight she found made every fiber of her soul cry out to make her body flinch, but she stifled the urge, merely drawing a quick, soft breath.

"Is it a terrible thing," Raven asked in a murmur, "to wish I hadn't healed him?" Crimson was shining in her pupils, the contrast between the dark blue of the iris all the more disturbing. Her mouth was turned down in a scowl, and Starfire knew the second set of eyes on Raven's face were open and staring at Robin, even with the mask atop them.

"Don't ask me that. Please." Raven's gaze shifted immediately to Starfire, the fiery red fading from her eyes at the tense expression on the young woman's face.

"Koriand'r?"

"I can stand him no more than you can," Starfire whispered. "But I don't want to wish him harm." She bit her lower lip, looking toward the floor. "I don't want you to hurt anyone." They danced in silence for a time, listening to the music only enough to follow the beat. The hand that Raven had placed so gently on Starfire's hip twitched and slid slowly up onto her side. Warmth spread soothingly from her hand, and Starfire closed her eyes. The small half-smile that curled Raven's lips was all at once reassuring and sad, though Starfire did not see it.

"I want to promise that I won't hurt anyone," the masked woman said, "but I can't."

"I know." Starfire let her fingers caress the curve of muscle on Raven's arm, eyes still closed. Raven put a hand beneath her chin and lifted gently. The touch made Starfire open her eyes and look at Raven, and she saw the smile on her face.

"Is it enough to promise that I won't harm anyone without reason?" After a moment, Starfire smiled and nodded slowly. The music drew to a close, and the two women stopped their slow dance. Hand still cupping Starfire's chin, Raven began to lean forward.

"May I cut in?" Starfire was snatched out of Raven's hands, dragged away before either of them could hope to reach out for the other. Even the action of turning her eyes away from Raven was taken from Starfire as she was roughly pushed and shuffled into place to dance once again. Whatever words she had in mind to say died instantly on her tongue at the sight of Robin. His face was a sickly white, and his eyes were wild. "You are staying with _me_."

"If I must dance with you, this will be the last," Starfire hissed.

"You are _staying_ with me," the man snarled again. "Do you understand me, woman?"

"I will _not_." At the slightest movement of her body to move away, Robin's grip tightened painfully around her wrist and on her hip. His face tightened, his lips drawing back to bare his teeth. The half-hearted dance they had been moving in stopped immediately. "Let go of me!"

"You don't understand," Robin said, his voice wavering in an attempt at a consoling tone. The brightness in his eyes spoke more of something deeper that frightened Starfire terribly. "I'm the better choice."

"I don't care." Starfire wrenched away, stepping backward as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "I am engaged. I don't want to be with you." She took another step backward. "I want to dance with my fiancée."

"Look around." Robin gestured vaguely toward the crowd, ignoring the many eyes that were falling curiously upon him. "Your _fiancée_ is not here." Starfire blinked rapidly, nervously turning her eyes away from the half-crazed man before her. The music had stopped playing, and the couples had stopped dancing. She could see a great number of masked faces and wary eyes, but she did not see Raven. A cold, insubstantial hand trailed its fingers up and down her spine as Robin took hold of her left hand.

"You _will_ marry me," he said cheerfully. He retrieved the jeweler's box from his pocket. In a single smooth movement, he pulled the ring from Starfire's finger and flung it away. The tiny chime of gold striking marble rang out as he jammed the ill-fitting diamond ring onto Starfire's finger. He smiled, the touch of his hands on hers making Starfire shudder. "Come now—another dance for your _real_ fiancée."

Rumors, while quick to spread within the walls of the Opera House, were part of the livelihood of Paris. The city was always abuzz with whispers and murmurs, and much of the current focus fell upon the state of Richard Grayson's mind. After his assault in the Perros-Guirec cemetery, his mouth came unhinged and he spoke freely and often of the fact that he was nearly killed by a demon.

Drunkards in gutters or madmen usually made such claims, but Robin made them with a vehemence that was unrivaled. Only his clout as le Vicomte de Wayne kept him from being thrown in the city's madhouse—Arkham Asylum—but only just. As he stood in the middle of the Paris Opera House, acting as he did, Robin did nothing but add truth to the rumors. For many minutes, the room was silent.

A blast of sound—the fanfare of trumpets—rang out from the top of the stairs. All eyes turned to find a great swell of darkness as the trumpets continued to play. The darkness split apart and collapsed, creating the shadows of the figure that was revealed from within its depths.

Red Death stood there, resplendent in scarlet. The clothes were cut to fit the plainly feminine form that carried them, and a long crimson train trailed regally onto the floor. The full-face mask beneath the plumed hat was crafted to emulate a human skull perfectly, and the bright white teeth were set in a smile. Red Death's face was truly a marvel, but there was a horror in the eyes. They shone brilliantly, red in the pupil and from lid to lid, but dark gold in the iris.

"Messieurs, Mesdames," Red Death said, "good evening." The voice rang out as clearly as the footfalls that followed it. Red Death started down the stairs, red and gold eyes sweeping back and forth over the gathered crowd. None moved, and few dared to draw breath. Red Death's voice was one that had been heard many months ago, and those that had heard the voice of the Phantom of the Opera would never forget it.

"Why so silent?" Red Death's arms spread wide, head tilting slightly. "Did you think I'd left you for good?" A low, long chuckle rattled past the grinning teeth. "Oh, I hope you've missed me. In my time away, I've made a little gift." A sphere of shadows appeared above Red Death's hand, unfolding to reveal a massive bound manuscript. "An opera for _my_ opera house. It _will_ be performed."

The anonymity granted by the sheer amount of skeletons present that evening was something Cyborg and Beast Boy were infinitely grateful for. Red Death threw the manuscript to Chaos, who snatched it from the air with one hand. After a moment, the death's head tilted forward in the faintest nod of recognition. Red Death began to turn away, but paused suddenly, red and gold eyes falling on Starfire and Robin.

"Let go of her." Shadows pried Robin's hands open and pushed him away from Starfire as Red Death advanced. A hand reached out to the side, and more shadows brought the gold ring into its grasp. Red Death examined the simple gold band, turning it over in slim, gloved fingers. "This is yours."

"Yes," Starfire murmured. Red Death's hand took a gentle hold of hers, lifting it to look at the ring that had been put on her finger. After a moment, shadows removed the ring with all gentleness and crushed it without remorse.

"That was not."

"No." Starfire shook her head slowly. Red Death's eyes fell again to the gold ring. It was turned over a number of times, slowly and carefully.

"This is from your fiancée." Starfire nodded slowly, watching as Red Death laid the ring flat in one palm. "Then—" Fingers curled closed around the ring. "—your fiancée will have to return it to you after retrieving it." Starfire nodded once more. "I will keep it safe until your fiancée comes for it." A smile slowly curled Starfire's lips.

"That isn't the ring I gave her, demon!" Robin snarled.

"You aren't her fiancée," Red Death replied. The red and gold eyes turned to stare into his, and Robin let out a howl of rage. He charged forward, hands outstretched for Red Death's throat. Red Death stepped abruptly to the side, flinging the crimson train into the air before Robin's feet could fall upon it. He ran into the void that appeared from beneath the fabric, falling into a deep pit from which his scream echoed. Before the sound could cease, the floor swung back in place as if it were nothing but a previously unknown trapdoor. Red Death's eyes swept over the crowd once more.

"Your chains are still mine." A step forward was taken. "I advise you to comply." Another step brought Red Death into the center of the room. "Remember—there are worse things than a shattered chandelier." The low chuckle that came next swelled and grew into laughter that echoed loudly in the silence. The shadows that Red Death cast on the floor grew and lifted up to encase the scarlet figure. Laughter still ringing in the ears of those gathered, the shadows vanished, and Red Death was gone.

----------

"Did I frighten you?" Starfire let out a soft sigh, glad that she could lay her head on Raven's chest. In their shared dream, they swayed slowly, dancing in the parlor of Raven's underground home. The piano in the music room played without a hand, Starfire catching glimpses through the open doorway of shadows pressing the keys.

"No," she replied. She squeezed Raven's hand reassuringly and lifted her head to smile at the other woman. "I knew it was you." Raven returned the smile, rubbing her fingers gently along Starfire's spine. "Thank you."

"For returning your ring?"

"For many things." Starfire leaned forward and pressed her lips against Raven's. When she pulled away, she looked at Raven's unmasked face and dark blue eyes. "What will happen to—le Vicomte?"

"He'll be found," Raven said simply. The answer was enough, and Starfire laid her head on Raven's chest. After some time, they stopped dancing, instead standing in each other's arms while the music played on. "Koriand'r?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Raven." Starfire let Raven's arms wrap tight around her, reveling in the embrace. "I love you, too."

—_to be continued—_


	13. Chapter 12

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 12

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

Robin paced. His legs ached and the pain in his toes was excruciating, but he could not sit. He was forced to constantly keep moving, never touching anything in the small chamber for too long. Were he to stop for more than thirty seconds, whatever he was touching would heat suddenly and rapidly unto the point of burning through cloth and skin.

He had lost his shoes and his suit jacket within the first five hours locked in the room. As he stood still in an attempt to hasten the adjusting of his eyes to the dim light, the rubber and leather of his shoes had begun to melt and scorch, and he was forced to wrench his feet from them before the heat burned him. After four solid hours of pacing back and forth, he had grown weary. He had taken off his suit jacket in hopes of providing himself with a cushion to sit on. Within moments, the cloth had begun to smoke and smolder, and Robin resigned himself to watching it burn into ash alongside the puddle that had once been his shoes.

It was eleven hours since his jacket had burned. He had been locked in the chamber for a total of sixteen, and his head throbbed. The only thing his mind could logically decipher was the fact that he was trapped in a room with walls made of mirrors. The mirrors were on well-oiled hinges. Many times he had seen the mirrors turning to show a veritable army of distraught, crazed-looking men, loathing the weakness he saw.

The single attempt at pushing at the mirrors to discover the working of the hinges resulted in painfully burned hands. In a fit of rage, Robin had kicked at the mirror that had burned him. The mirror had cooled in an instant, and it had proven impossible to break. Howling with pain and anger, Robin had hobbled to a different mirror and kicked at it with his other foot. The result was the same, and only fear of burning his feet kept him limping about the room.

His stomach soon joined his legs and feet in a chorus of sharp pain, and his throat had dried after his shouting and cursing. Robin swallowed, rubbing at his throat when the muscles refused to cooperate. The tightness in his chest worsened every few hours, leaving him achingly weary. He groaned but continued to pace. As time passed, his mind grew more and more detached from his body.

Studying and practicing martial arts for years and years had honed this technique to something that was almost wholly unconscious. Detachment had a two-fold effect. It calmed Robin's highly agitated mind, and it allowed him to sort through every memory and small detail that he wished to review. Pain reduced to a dull pulse in his skin, he began to think more clearly than he had in months.

----------

"It is impossible!"

"Monsieur le Blood, please, look again! Surely this piece of music is not impossible to play!" Beast Boy's face was pleading as he opened the manuscript on the piano again. Blood turned his nose up at the manuscript, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No music is impossible for me to play!" he snapped. "This _entire endeavor_ is impossible! Have you looked through these demands?" He reached up to the top of the piano and gathered the small stack of notes into his hands, tossing each note over his shoulder as he read the demands aloud. "A new first bassoon! Removing the third trombone! Shoving aside a true diva for one of the lowly _corps de ballet_!" With a snarl, he made to fling the remaining notes into the air. A hand snapped closed around his wrist.

"Calm down," Chaos murmured. She plucked the notes from Blood's hand, letting go of his wrist before crouching down. "There's no need to make a mess." She picked up the notes that lay on the floor, shuffling them all into a neat stack before putting them on the piano. "And there's no need to insult my dancers."

"Oh, enough!" Blood stood from the piano bench, slapping the notes into the air. "What makes you so deluded as to believe that you can save this pathetic excuse for an opera from the gutter it is destined to wallow in? What little talent for choreographing you posses notwithstanding, there is no way to bring this opera onto the stage!"

"Monsieur, I must disagree. I gave everyone their parts three days ago with specific instructions to begin practicing. If you'll just play something so we can begin rehearsal—"

"No! This is ridiculous! There will be no rehearsal, and there will be no opera! This worthless pile of paper can hardly be called an opera! All these years of lording over us has evidently taught the Opera Ghost nothing of real music!"

Standing off in the wings, Starfire, Bumblebee, and Terra tried to laugh quietly, pressing hands over their mouths to smother the sound. Starfire was the first to grow quiet, watching the exchange. Bumblebee and Terra continued to giggle, stopping only when they saw Starfire anxiously twisting the gold ring on her hand.

"What's wrong?" Terra asked.

"Madame Dolan is furious," Starfire murmured.

"Starfire, Madame Dolan and Monsieur le Blood have argued over every opera they've ever worked together on," Bumblebee sighed. "This is just their pre-rehearsal tradition."

"No," Starfire said slowly. "Look at Madame Dolan—her eyes." The two young women did as they were told, but they returned their gazes to Starfire mere moments later in confusion. She sighed, a frown pulling at her lips as her eyes filled with worry. "I've never seen her look at Monsieur le Blood like that."

"I don't understand," Terra said. "He's not insulting her very much, and she never pays him any mind when he insults her anyway. Why would she be upset over his insulting the Opera Ghost?" Starfire did not take her eyes from Chaos, unable to answer. A sharp crack rang out, halting the sound that always buzzed about the wings.

"Madame Dolan!" Cyborg said in protest. Chaos looked down at her right hand and the piece of the grand piano's elegant wood decorations therein, examining the black lacquer chunk with a cold eye. "There's no need to break things! Monsieur le Blood—enough squabbling. _Please_ begin the rehearsal."

"After _that_ outlandish display?" Blood snorted. "I refuse to perform a piece that brings about such behavior." Chaos's eyes narrowed, and Blood felt his namesake rush from his face.

"_Move_." The word was accented by another crack as Chaos clenched her hand and snapped the piece of wood in half. Blood staggered backwards, and Chaos sat down on the piano bench. She cast the broken wood aside, flipping open the manuscript. "_Chorus!_"

All but Starfire gathered quickly in the center of the stage as Chaos lifted her hands. There was no time to ask what portion of the opera she was demanding that they sing, but the moment her fingers began to strike the keys, the lyrics appeared in their throats. At the proper cue, the chorus began to sing.

"_Poor young maiden! For the thrill  
on your tongue of stolen sweets  
you will have to pay the bill—  
tangled in the winding sheets!_"

Chaos slammed the cover down over the keys, standing up before the lingering, discordant notes could fade away. Her spine was stiff as her eyes slowly turned toward Blood. His throat tightened painfully, and he found himself unable to move as Chaos walked toward him.

"Your orchestra is three days behind everyone else," she murmured. "You have until tomorrow morning to make sure that they understand the basics of this opera. I'm going to allow the chorus to practice on their own, and I'm going to my quarters to finish my work on the choreography. We will perform this opera within three weeks. Do you understand me, monsieur?" Blood nodded, hurriedly stumbling away to begin passing out copies of the music to the orchestra members.

Chaos strode back to the piano, taking the manuscript that Red Death had left on the night of the masquerade ball into her hands. Without another word, she walked out of the amphitheater, the crisp clicking of her boot heels against the floor echoing back through the side passages. Starfire paused until the chorus had begun to drift apart and wander out of the amphitheater before following.

----------

There was such an inordinately long pause after Starfire had knocked on the door that she wondered if Chaos was refusing to answer. Before the thought to knock again crossed her mind, she heard a sigh and a low call for her to enter. She opened the door and entered slowly, looking about. Chaos was rummaging about in a trunk at the foot of the bed, moving far more calmly than up in the theater.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Starfire said softly.

"You aren't intruding," Chaos replied, still looking through the things in the trunk. "I could use the company at the moment. Please, sit down." Starfire let a small smile appear on her face, curtsying and walking toward the desk chair. She paused when she saw the stacks of paper covering the desk and the chair, unsure if she had ever seen the room looking quite so unorganized. After a moment, she sat down in the comfortable armchair, fully prepared to move if the need arose.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. Chaos froze for a moment before sighing and continuing her search.

"Not exactly."

"Please—you always allow myself and the other girls to talk to you about our troubles," Starfire said. "Can't _I_ be of some help to _you_?" Chaos looked over her shoulder at the young woman, staring at her. Starfire blushed and faltered under the intense, astonished gaze, clasping her hands in her lap and looking at them. "That is—if there's something I _can_ help with." Chaos's gaze softened as she smiled and turned back to the trunk. A final, quick rummage revealed what she had been searching for, and she pulled a battered violin free.

"I need to play something," she murmured. "But I'll be happy to talk afterward." Starfire nodded, blinking in surprise as Chaos simply tucked the violin under her chin and began to play. It was a piece that the young woman had never heard before, filled with cold anger and played so quickly the bow was a blur. Despite the fact that the instrument had not been rosined nor checked for its tune, the music that was played bested most that Starfire had ever heard. She sat staring at Chaos until the woman stopped playing, drawing the bow back across the strings once to sound them.

"I—I didn't know you played anything," Starfire stammered in lieu of a compliment she felt would fall short. "Not even a piano before earlier." Chaos chuckled, spinning the bow in her fingers as she crouched down and closed the trunk's lid. She sat down on the trunk, laying the bow and violin beside her and resting her elbows on her knees.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said. "It's not the piece I'm most proud of, though."

"What is?" Starfire asked curiously. Chaos laughed aloud, smirking at the young woman.

"I'm afraid that's a bit of a secret," she replied. "I only play it for my family." The casual remark made Starfire blink, her head tilting unconsciously to the side.

"You've never spoken of your family," she said.

"Most everyone sees Kali every day," Chaos said with a smile, her eyes looking toward the desk and the papers on it. Starfire paused. Her surprise was not brought about the statement, as she could understand the inclusion of a lover as part of a family. Chaos's overly quiet tone and the softening of her eyes despite the smile fueled her curiosity enough for her to speak up.

"What about the rest of your family?" she asked. Chaos blinked and looked back at Starfire. "Your parents? Brothers and sisters?" Starfire swallowed uncomfortably, looking at the ground for a moment. "Children?"

"I found my daughter twenty-six years ago." Starfire looked up, her chest aching at the next statement. "Her real mother was going to kill her, and I rescued her." Chaos sighed and closed her eyes. "My father is…far away. I haven't seen him for all that time."

"Does he…disapprove of you?" Chaos's eyes opened as her head snapped up. She began to laugh, putting a hand to her forehead.

"No, no!" she said. "It's nothing at all like that! I miss him, Starfire. That's all." Starfire bit her lip and nodded, and Chaos saw the tears that had welled suddenly in the young woman's eyes. "You miss your family." Starfire sniffed mightily and nodded again, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. She managed to smile as she wiped away the tears.

"I do," she said. "But I'm happy now." Chaos smiled and nodded, standing up and walking to the desk. She began to organize the stacks of paper, looking over a choice number carefully. "Madame Dolan?"

"What?"

"Why were you so angry earlier?"

"Monsieur le Blood insulted myself and the opera."

"But he's done that before, and you've never become so angry. Why does it bother you now?" Chaos sighed, putting the papers in her hands on top of the neatened stacks before laying her palms flat against the desk.

"I've spent fifteen years listening to that old hack's insults," she said quietly. "I was almost accustomed to it all, performing the same operas year after year and hearing the same complaints about them and myself. But I've read the Phantom's opera, Starfire. It speaks to me like nothing else, and I wasn't going to let Blood insult something that honestly deserves praise."

"I understand," Starfire said after a moment.

"You would," Chaos replied. "Considering the relationships we share with the Phantom." Starfire nodded, but each movement of her head was progressively slower. She looked at Chaos's back, wondering if she was grateful that did not have to meet the woman's eyes when she spoke again.

"Madame Dolan?" she asked. "Why did—the Opera Ghost choose you and Madame Kali to be her liaisons with the managers?" Chaos froze, her spine stiffening. Starfire bit her lip, shrinking back in the chair.

"That," Chaos said suddenly, "is something I can't answer." Her shoulders sagged with the massive sigh she heaved a moment later. A moment passed before she turned about to look at the young woman. "Pardon my rudeness, but I must ask you to leave. I still have the choreography to finish before tomorrow morning." Starfire nodded and stood up, but paused when she was on her feet.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Whatever for?" Chaos asked. Starfire smiled, her hands drawing together instinctively to touch her fingers to the gold ring.

"For holding the opera in such high regard," she replied. "The Opera Ghost has told me that you're very worldly, and I can only imagine how she must feel for receiving your praise." She blushed, blinking rapidly as she clapped her hands over her mouth. With a polite, albeit hurried curtsey, Starfire hurried from the room. As the door clicked shut, Chaos could not stop a smile from curling her lips.

----------

"What travesty is this?" were the words that flew from Jinx's mouth the moment Malchior flung open the door to the managers' office. The three months after running from the stage in tears, Jinx had been remarkably quiet in Paris. It had been a guilty pleasure to see her willingly resigned to a minor part of the chorus, and Beast Boy and Cyborg were nothing short of gleeful for that quiet time.

"What _ridiculous_ travesty are you putting me through now?" she demanded, storming into the office. "How dare I receive such a letter?" She slapped a note onto the desk, crossing her arms with a huff. Cyborg and Beast Boy looked at the woman mildly. When they did not move, Jinx's face grew red, tendons on her neck rising as she clenched her teeth. "You _dare_ to give Malchior a lead role? He cannot perform without his diva at his side!"

"He's done it the last three months," Cyborg murmured. "He should do well enough—though we do have something to ask of you, monsieur." Malchior, blanching as he felt the weight of Jinx's glare on him, stepped forward. Cyborg opened a drawer in the desk and retrieved a telltale black envelope. He pulled the note from the envelope, reading it calmly. "The Opera Ghost insists that you darken your hair—Don Juan is youthful, and you look like an old man."

"How _dare_ you?" Malchior snarled. Cyborg shrugged, putting the note on the table.

"I'm merely repeating what was said in the note," he said. "If you don't darken your hair, we'll find another lead. Simple as that." Malchior's jaw dropped as Jinx's face reddened further. She sputtered, trying desperately to speak. Before a coherent word could be formed, Beast Boy raised a hand and strode forward.

"Don't bother," he said sharply. "We've heard enough—myself especially. Every time you order us to do something, it's for your own benefit, and the Opera House suffers for it. People have _died_ because of your selfish demands, and countless more have been subjected to similar danger."

"You can't possibly blame—" Beast Boy cut off Jinx's protests by slamming his fist down on the desk.

"You are not blameless!" he shouted. "We've looked over the Opera House's records! There were numerous complaints regarding you in the time that Monsieur Slade was manager. Despite that, Monsieur Slade did not give in to your outrageous demands, and the Opera House received its highest profits in that time. He may have given you second chance after second chance, but we will not! We _will_ perform _Don Juan Triumphant_, Malchior _will_ darken his hair, and you _both_ are fired once this performance is finished! _Do you understand me?_"

Malchior and Jinx stood frozen for a long moment before Jinx turned and scurried away. Malchior soon followed, his feet dragging on the ground. Beast Boy went to the door and slammed it closed, turning about and striding to the single window in the office. He leaned on the windowsill with his hands, sighing softly.

"I hope we still have enough clout to draw in a new tenor," he murmured.

"There's no need to worry," Cyborg replied. "I'm certain that we'll be flooded with singers hoping to work alongside Mademoiselle Starfire." He groaned as he stood, arching his back with a satisfied smile. Still smiling, he strode to his friend and laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "There's quite a beast in you, Garfield. I'm glad it wasn't looking for me." Beast Boy chuckled, smiling faintly.

----------

"The girl has to die," Jinx gasped, her breath trapped behind her tongue. "She _has _to." Malchior nodded slowly, staring at the floor. Jinx paused in her pacing to storm to the man and slap him across the face twice. "Pull yourself together! I need you to kill Starfire!"

"But—I'll be put into jail," Malchior croaked. "Disgraced forever in Paris." Jinx slapped him once more, hard enough that the inside of his cheek split on his teeth. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her, forcing blood to dribble down his face as she squeezed hard.

"You'll be disgraced anyway," she snarled. "The least you can do is take the little witch to her grave beforehand." She shoved him backward, and he fell to the floor, eyes falling upon his feet.

"Yes," he whispered slowly. "It's the least I can do. After all she's done to us." Jinx smiled widely.

"Exactly," she said cheerfully. "But it has to be dramatic. A final farewell to the upstaging brat." She gasped and clapped her hands together, hurrying to the chair she had hurled the copy of _Don Juan_'s manuscript in a fury. She flipped through the pages, eyes widening when she came to a specific scene. The smile on her face was hideous. "I know _exactly_ what to do."

----------

Starfire let the low note resonate in her chest, holding it perfectly. When she stopped singing, she closed her eyes. The applause that began a moment later was enough to make her open her eyes again and smile at Raven. The woman stood just before her, her mask on the table far out of reach. She smiled broadly, still applauding.

"Oh, Koriand'r—well done," she murmured. "No one else could inhabit Aminta as you do. The audience will love you." Starfire's smile did not waver as she took a single step forward, grasping Raven's hands between her own.

"I don't care," she replied. "What I want is for them to love your work." She giggled, squeezing Raven's hands. "You've already impressed Madame Dolan." Raven's eyes widened, her jaw falling slightly.

"I—did?" she asked.

"Enough to make her defend it against Monsieur le Blood and tell me that it honestly deserves praise." Raven blinked repeatedly, her eyes falling to the floor. She slowly stepped backward, keeping a weak hold on one of the young woman's hands as she turned away. "Raven? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Raven said softly. "I never expected to be praised by her."

"Why not?" Starfire said in turn. "You're both musicians—of course she would praise work as good as yours."

"She's brilliant, Starfire," Raven murmured. "Madame Kali is the only person who's heard her play more than I have, and only just. By Heaven—if you could hear her best work!"

"She said that she only plays it for her family." Raven turned about to find Starfire's scrutinizing gaze on her. "Raven—why did you choose Mesdames Dolan and Kali to be your contacts to the Opera House?" Raven's eyes fell to the floor once again.

"I can't tell you yet," she said, her voice weak. "Please, Starfire—everything will be explained after the performance. I promise I'll tell you, but not now."

"Why not?"

"There are things about the Opera House that need to stay a secret until the time is right. Please trust me." Starfire sighed softy, but her smile did not fade. She leaned forward and kissed Raven gently, pulling away after a moment.

"I do trust you," she said. "More than anyone else." Raven smiled before wrapping her arms around Starfire, the smile broadening when Starfire immediately returned the embrace.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I do love you, Koriand'r."

"I love you, too, Raven," Starfire replied. Raven smiled and hummed softly, holding Starfire closer.

"Now, we must stop dreaming," she said ruefully. "You need a deeper rest." Starfire paused before nodding with a sigh. "Until tomorrow night, my dear one."

"Until tomorrow."

----------

Robin stumbled and fell to the floor, unable to lift himself. His vision was blurred, and his sense of time was skewed. He had no idea how long he had been in the chamber, nor how many times he had been burned. Chest aching terribly, he allowed his eyelids to flutter, knowing that unconsciousness—and death, in all likelihood—was near.

The answers had fallen into place while he paced back and forth. He had deciphered most everything that had been plaguing him, and he had already conceived a plan to bring the remaining answers to him. Dimly, as his vision blackened, he thought of what a terrible pity it was that he would not see his plan seen through.

It was only after Robin had passed out that one of the mirrored panels swung open. He was picked up as easily as a piece of paper and carried from the chamber, never once stirring to see the face of his rescuer.

—_to be continued—_


	14. Chapter 13

The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 13

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them. I changed some lyrics from the musical in this chapter. Please refer to my posting of this chapter on deviantArt for a more indepth summary.

The premiere of _Don Juan Triumphant_ was the most anticipated moment in the history of the Paris Opera House. The citizens of Paris were utterly entranced with the opera for a myriad of reasons. Whispers had spread from loose-lipped employees of _Don Juan_'s scandalous nature. It was a tale of a conqueror of women that culminated in a true love for the titular character. There was to be lust and romance—a surefire combination to draw in the subscribers. With Starfire's Aminta alongside Malchior's Don Juan, many a fantasy would be fulfilled, and an equal amount of envious hearts stirred.

The primary reason for the flurry to fill the house, however, was not one that needed mere gossip from drunken maids to be known. Any person that had attended the New Year's masquerade ball within the Opera House's walls had seen the Phantom of the Opera's grand appearance as Red Death and the delivery of _Don Juan_'s manuscript. Such a wholly remarkable origin was all the more alluring, and the house was sold out the day tickets went on sale.

Enthusiasm was not limited to the public. The performers had never known such eagerness. For some, the performance would be a test of skill. The orchestra had practiced day and night until their lips cracked or their fingers bled. The _corps de ballet_ could be found massaging their legs and feet in large groups in the evening, going through the choreography verbally.

For others, there were things that waited beyond the first performance. Malchior and Jinx still reeled from the idea that their next show would be their last, and quietly schemed for retribution. Beast Boy and Cyborg had promised Terra and Bumblebee, their respective fiancées, that they would be married after the premiere and live handsomely in a new time of prosperity for the Opera House.

None were more anxious than Raven and Starfire. The idea that her work would be performed on such a grand scale was one of Raven's greatest dreams. Starfire had never seen the woman smile so much as she did in the three weeks before the premiere. There were moments when the smiles seemed rather secretive when Starfire expected them to fade instantly to scowls.

She had avoided practicing the duet she was to perform with Malchior toward the end of the opera in Raven's presence, but Raven insisted that she hear it. Despite her curiosity, Starfire did not ask about Raven's smile. She believed in Raven's promise that everything would be revealed after the opera, and simply added the smile to the list of things to inquire about when they left the Opera House together.

There was only one person in the whole of the city that was not anxious for the opera, and it was only because he was not conscious to be part of the fervor. Robin had been returned to his flat and his bed, and had not woken in the three weeks before the premiere. Had anyone known that he was in his locked flat, they would have marveled that the man did not starve to death in his near comatose state.

The night of the performance came with high expectations of perfection from all parties involved. Everything had been practiced unto the point of becoming second nature. Every plan was finalized, and there was no reason for any person to believe that something would go awry. While there were certain plots that would have failed in any circumstance, one small thing guaranteed that everything would not go precisely as planned.

Through sheer force of will, and against all odds, Robin woke one day before he was meant to.

----------

"Are you frightened?" Starfire looked up at Chaos in confusion as the two women made their way from Starfire's dressing room.

"No," she said with a smile. "Why would I be frightened?" Chaos shrugged, her focus somewhere in the distance.

"I don't know," she replied. "Force of habit to ask."

"Are _you_ frightened?" Starfire asked. Chaos blinked and looked at the young woman at her side.

"No," she murmured as she looked at the floor. "I'm just worried." She sighed and shook her head, managing a smile as she looked at Starfire once more. "You'll do fine. I'm very proud of how far you've come." Starfire felt an unexpected but welcome swell of happiness in her chest, blushing as her eyes brightened.

"You are?" Chaos chuckled, and her smile grew broader. She laid a hand on Starfire's shoulder, stopping them both and looking the young woman's eyes.

"I'm as proud of you as I am of my daughter," she said. "You've both come very far in your lives." She paused for a moment, her smile fading as she thought. The smile returned more broadly than before. "I'll introduce you to her tonight. She's quite anxious to see the opera, and I know that she's here."

"That would be wonderful!" Starfire said cheerfully. Chaos chuckled, patting Starfire's shoulder before guiding the young woman to begin walking. "If your daughter is half the woman you are, I can't wait to meet her!" Chaos laughed aloud, resisting the urge to ruffle Starfire's perfectly coiffed hair. They reached the stage, where the final preparations were hurriedly carried out behind the closed curtain.

"Remind me that I promised to play my best work for all of you tonight," Chaos murmured. Starfire looked at the woman, blinking confusedly.

"You haven't promised that," she replied. Chaos chuckled.

"I have now." She smiled at Starfire, who stared at her in surprise. "Go on now. I want your best efforts tonight." Starfire nodded and started away, briefly looking back over her shoulder with a broad smile. The smile on Chaos's face vanished as she let out a low sigh. She turned when she felt the familiar touch of a warm hand against her back. Kali stood behind her, red eyes anxious.

"Is there a specific reason you wanted me backstage tonight?" she asked. Chaos smiled, taking Kali's hand in hers.

"Other than I miss you when I'm backstage and you're in the audience?" she asked in turn. The smile twisted into a small scowl. "Yes, unfortunately. I want you here if anything goes wrong."

"Do you think something will happen?"

"Yes, and I don't know what it is."

----------

Robin strode nonchalantly through the dark streets of Paris. Thieves were too disturbed by the sight of him to try and rob him. His once fashionable clothes were blood-spattered rags, and he still wore the black domino mask. Despite this shabbiness, his hair was neatly combed and slicked back, and his face was cleanly shaven. He moved silently, barely sensing the chill of the cobblestones on his bare, scorched feet.

Though his mind was clear, a line had been irrevocably crossed during his time in the chamber of mirrors. The separation from pain had deepened to encompass the deadening of his ability to feel any physical sensation. He had barely been aware of the comb through his hair a mere thirty minutes before, and he hardly reacted to the cold wind blowing through the holes in his shirt. The greatest damage, however, was to the attachment of his emotions.

The plan that he had devised to bring the downfall of his enemies was one that required no mercy, and Robin had allowed himself to lose what compassion he knew. He strode into the light of the Paris Opera House, walking purposefully through the doors. There was a single usher standing at the doors, and he quickly walked toward Robin. A quick, hard jab of Robin's thumb into the artery on the man's neck forced him into a swift, semi-painless darkness. He continued on through the lobby, walking up the stairs toward the private boxes.

Distantly, he could hear music through the doors he walked past. He did not bother to listen to it, instead concentrating on counting his paces. Twenty long strides brought him to the end of the hallway, and he stopped at the door to the managers' box. He laid his hand on the doorknob, gently turning it. The door was unlocked, and Robin opened it silently. He strode into the box and closed the door, never drawing the attention of the two men watching the opera.

"Good evening, gentlemen." His arms reached out beyond Cyborg and Beast Boy before snapping backwards. The points of his elbows caught both men in the center of their chests. They bent forward reflexively, air rushing from their lungs. Robin twisted his arms about, slapping his hands against the men's mouths to mute any cries of pain. Mere moments later, he ripped the sleeves from his shirt and gagged both men. Still incapacitated, they could do nothing to stop Robin from binding them to their chairs with the shredded remains of their suit jackets.

"I see that you gave in to the demon's demands," he said conversationally. "A grievous error that I'll have to rectify." He turned away from gazing at the stage from the shadows, his focus falling squarely on Cyborg. "Monsieur Stone—those rumors about your hiding a pistol in your false arm are true, aren't they?" He strode to the man and crouched down, snatching the false left arm. With a sharp jerk, he snapped the finely made hand off at the wrist. The pistol within the hollow arm fell into Robin's waiting hand.

"They are," Robin murmured. He checked the pistol quickly, humming at the assessment. "One shot, but a powerful weapon. Just what I need." He made his way back into the shadows, turning to watch the stage. "Now we wait until the right moment."

----------

Jinx and Malchior had planned their revenge down to the very lyric. They would go through the motions of the first and second acts, all the while waiting for the final scene wherein Don Juan would pronounce his love for Aminta. Before returning to the stage for the duet, Malchior would retrieve the dagger Jinx had placed backstage in the dark cloak Don Juan was to wear. At the finale of the lover's duet, he would not hesitate to slit the young woman's throat.

The anxiety of the audience was at a record high. Never before had they been so drawn into an opera, and the current that seemed to run through every person in the Opera House intensified as the final scene began at last. The ending could be nothing short of spectacular, and most everyone watched with bated breath.

The stage was set with a high, flat-topped arch creating a curtained alcove. Twin spiral staircases created the two supporting legs of the arch, and many eyes continually glanced at the top of the arch. It was a natural reaction; the finale could take place only on such an eye-catching creation as the expertly painted and decorated arch. Two men stood below the arch—Malchior as Don Juan, and a senior member of the chorus playing the role of Passarino, Don Juan's best friend. Malchior smiled, his voice ringing clearly as he and the man opposite sang back and forth.

"_I have said: 'come—meet with me!'  
Why, oh, why? I must speak the truth!_"

"_The dear girl has won your heart!_"

"_Here's my hat, my cloak and sword.  
our happiness is assured,  
if I do not forget myself and lie…_"

Despite his character, Malchior could not repress the small chuckle from bubbling out of his throat as he swept behind the red curtain. As soon as the curtain swung down and hid him from view, something cold and hard enveloped his entire body and held his mouth closed. A figure stepped out from the shadows of the backstage, dark blue eyes regarding him coolly from behind a black mask that matched Malchior's. Unable to struggle or speak, Malchior could only wonder why there was a person dressed exactly as he was standing before him.

The eyes filled with red light, and Malchior saw a lasso made of shadows fly out and fall over his head. What pain he might have felt from the lasso's tightening round his throat was never realized. His neck snapped before he could feel anything more than faint surprise.

----------

Starfire strode on stage with a lightness in her step that was true to herself and her character. She glanced at the audience, happy that her character was meant to smile. Everyone was enthralled with the opera, as Starfire had known they would be. No complications had arisen in the performance, and Starfire sang as easily as breathing.

"…_no thoughts  
within her head,  
but thoughts of joy!  
No dreams  
within her heart,  
but dreams of love!_"

She held in her hands a single rose—a present from Don Juan to Aminta. It had been delivered to Aminta in the night, with a note begging the young beauty to meet Don Juan. The note had promised that there were many things that would be revealed, and that Don Juan desperately needed to see Aminta. Aminta, absolutely entranced by the mysterious man, had rushed to meet him at the specified time and place.

Starfire stood in simple peasant's garb—a dark maroon dress and clean white blouse. Her eyes were bright and eager as she looked everywhere but the curtained alcove behind her. The choir member playing Passarino glanced about, leaning toward the curtain.

"_Master?_" he sang, the nervous waver in his voice oddly unconnected to his character. The voice that answered him was strong and commanding.

"_Passarino—go away!  
My dear love waits, and I will not delay!_"

The man quickly did as he was told, and the curtain parted soon after he had hurried offstage. The figure that stepped onto the stage looked exactly as Malchior had. The hair was dark and long, and a black mask covered the eyes and forehead. A black cape lined with red hung around a body dressed in tight black breeches and a loose, long-sleeved shirt opened wide at the chest. With Starfire still purposefully looking in the wrong direction, the beginning of the duet was sung.

"_You have come here  
in pursuit of  
your deepest urge,  
in pursuit of  
that wish,  
which till now  
has been silent,  
silent…_"

Starfire froze, her eyes widening in utter shock. She knew that the voice she heard was a tenor's voice. It was second nature to recognize the ranges of her fellow singers. It was also in her nature to recognize whose voice was singing in said ranges. Having lived her life in the Opera House, and having spent three solid weeks rehearsing with the cast, Starfire knew immediately that it was not Malchior who stood on stage and sang as Don Juan.

"_I have brought you,  
that our passions  
may fuse and merge—  
in your mind  
you've already  
succumbed to me,  
dropped all defenses,  
completely succumbed to me—  
now you are here with me:  
no second thoughts,  
you've decided,  
decided…_"

She turned about quickly, drawing in an inaudible gasp. Raven slowly strode downstage, smiling at Starfire. The cape around her shoulders hid her feminine form from the audience, but not from Starfire, and there was nothing that could keep Starfire from recognizing the masked woman's eyes.

"_Past the point  
of no return—  
no backward glances:  
the games we've played  
till now are at  
an end…  
Past all thought  
of 'if' or 'when'—  
no use resisting:  
abandon thought,  
and let the dream  
descend…_"

Though none but Starfire had noticed that Malchior was no longer on the stage, it was impossible to ignore the change in the voice that occurred. Slowly, gradually, the range shifted and the pitch rose. Raven began to sing at her natural alto, and although it was noticed, the audience found no reason to protest such a perfect voice.

"_What raging fire  
shall flood the soul?  
What rich desire  
unlocks its door?  
What sweet seduction  
lies before  
us…?_"

Raven met Starfire in the center of the stage, taking her hands. She pressed soft kisses against Starfire's fingers, lifting her head only after each hand had received the same slow, knee-weakening treatment. Starfire felt her cheeks burn as Raven smiled at her.

"_Past the point  
of no return,  
the final threshold—  
what warm,  
unspoken secrets  
will we learn?  
Beyond the point  
of no return…_"

Still smiling, Raven stepped away, moving toward one of the staircases. Starfire could only stand and stare, an astonished smile curling her lips. Despite her amazement, she managed to start singing when she heard her cue.

"_You have brought me  
to that moment  
where words run dry,  
to that moment  
where speech  
disappears  
into silence,  
silence…_"

Her stride was evenly paced as she moved toward the staircase opposite Raven. She continued to smile, and sang with everything she had.

"_I have come here,  
hardly knowing  
the reason why…  
In my mind,  
I've already  
imagined our  
bodies entwining,  
defenseless and silent—  
and now I am  
here with you:  
no second thoughts,  
I've decided,  
decided…_"

They began to walk up the staircases, Starfire's voice still ringing clearly in the audience's ears.

"_Past the point  
of no return—  
no going back now:  
our passion-play  
has now, at last,  
begun…  
Past all thought  
of right or wrong—  
one final question:  
how long should we  
two wait, before  
we're one…?_"

The smiles on the two women's faces were genuine. As artists, they knew that they were performing at their very peak. It would be difficult to equal the duet they sang, and nearly impossible to exceed it. As lovers, they were filled with pride for the other's talent. Such a reaction was natural and unavoidable. No matter what talent was in one's lover, it was to be celebrated, cherished, and nurtured. With Raven's heart swelling as she listened, Starfire continued to sing.

"_When will the blood  
begin to race,  
the sleeping bud  
burst into bloom?  
When will the flames  
at last, consume  
us…?_"

They reached the top of the archway and began to move slowly toward each other. Raven pulled the cape from her shoulders, flinging it aside. A ripple of faint gasps swept through the audience at the sight of her form. It was the secret that Raven had revealed to no one: Don Juan was a woman in disguise. It was scandalous, shocking, unheard of—and the audience did not protest. The two women began to sing in unison, reaching out and clasping each other's hands.

"_Past the point  
of no return,  
the final threshold—  
the bridge  
is crossed, so stand  
and watch it burn…  
We've passed the point  
of no return…_"

The audience sat in complete silence as the music ebbed away. Raven pulled Starfire flush against her, turning the young woman's back to the audience. With a smile that outshone any that she had given before, Raven took Starfire's left hand and lifted it, angling it so the gold ring was visible. She let her other hand rest on Starfire's hip, holding the other woman close as she sang the words Starfire would never forget.

"_Say you'll share with  
me one  
love, one lifetime…  
Lead me, save me  
from my solitude…_"

In the manager's box, Robin took aim from the shadows. Cyborg and Beast Boy could only stare in horror. Starfire wrapped her arms around Raven's neck, smiling as brightly as Raven.

"_Say you want me  
with you,  
here beside you…  
Anywhere you go  
let me go too—  
Starfire,  
that's all I ask of—_"

The gunshot that interrupted the pledge was ear-splitting. Women in the audience shrieked first in shock, and then in horror. A red blossom had appeared low on one side of Starfire's back, and her face was a wide-eyed mask of surprise and pain. A line of the same brilliant red on her back trickled from the corner of her mouth, and she gripped weakly at Raven's shoulders. Her legs failed, and Raven crouched swiftly to lower her gently to the wooden planks.

Her movement sent a flare of heat and pain up from her stomach, and Raven pressed a hand against it. Her hand came away soaked in blood. She stared at her hand for a mere moment before looking back at Starfire. The front of her pristine white blouse was stained crimson, and there was a hole in her side that pierced through her entire body. Gasping for breath, Starfire reached out for Raven with a trembling hand. Raven took Starfire's hand, pressing it to her cheek and bowing her head. For a moment, the Paris Opera House was absolutely still.

What happened after that still moment would be forever etched on the memories of those who witnessed it. The lights flickered, sending the Opera House into darkness. Six diamonds of red light appeared to the sound of roaring flames, and the lights returned. Starfire and Raven had vanished, and in their place stood a figure made entirely of black fire, six red eyes blazing.

The creature's mouth opened with a howl, red flames rushing out to fill the air. Men and women alike screamed as the fire came close enough to burn, tendrils of red licking at their skin and clothes. The fire continued to burn, its crackling roar a counterpart to the screams of every person that ran for the exits.

Robin tossed the pistol aside and began to turn about. Fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt and pulled him from his feet. He was thrown through the cloud of flames, landing hard on the stage. Beast Boy and Cyborg stared in shock as the creature made of black flames disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. When their bonds vanished, they rushed from the box to find their fiancées.

In the mad rush to escape, Jinx had been knocked to the floor just behind the curtain of the archway. When she looked up to shriek angrily, she was confronted with the sight of Malchior's body and its broken neck. She sat unable to move, horror coursing through every vein. The sound of a footstep somehow drew her attention, and she looked up.

"You?" she croaked.

"Me." The last thing that Jinx saw was the flash of light off of the blade that parted her neck from her shoulders. Her body fell against Malchior's, and her head rolled to rest against his.

----------

"Terra, please—get up! We can't stay here!" Terra continued to stare at the fire, unable to move from her place huddled at the bottom of one of the staircases onstage. Bumblebee reached out and shook Terra's shoulders furiously. "Terra! Get up _now_!"

"I can't," Terra whispered. "I—I tripped and twisted my ankle when the lights went out." She blinked, her eyes turning to look at Bumblebee. "Oh, God—Starfire was shot." Bumblebee's heart shuddered within her chest, and she felt her knees fold beneath her. Her mouth opened and closed, unable to make a sound. A hand fell on her shoulder, and Bumblebee looked up at Chaos.

"Stand up, Bumblebee," Chaos murmured. It was a command that Bumblebee obeyed immediately. Chaos crouched down and put her hands beneath Terra's arms, lifting her as easily as a child and setting her gently on her uninjured leg. "Help Terra." Bumblebee moved to support her friend, letting the pale-faced young woman clutch at her shoulders and arms. "Good. Find your fiancées and get out of here." She began to stride quickly away.

"Madame Dolan, wait!" Terra's voice was high-pitched and nearly hysterical. Chaos stopped and looked back at the two young women, her face taut. "Where are you going? Please don't leave us alone!"

"I have to find Starfire and the Opera Ghost," Chaos replied. "You two will be all right." She started to turn away, but paused. After a moment, she walked back to the two young women, and her gaze had softened. "You two were my best students. Don't disappoint me now by falling apart when I leave." She gave them a small smile, reaching out and laying her hands on their shoulders. "Be safe and be well, girls. Goodbye."

Terra and Bumblebee stood and watched their teacher hurry away. They saw her rouse Robin and stared as they ran from the stage and toward the only entrance to the lower levels of the Opera House. After a moment, they both drew deep breaths and steeled themselves to start the long trek through fire and panic. They managed to move off stage before the tears of pain in Terra's eyes welled over and they were forced to rest.

"Terra! Bumblebee!" Cyborg and Beast Boy pushed past the frantic stagehands and ran to either woman. Beast Boy spared a single glance at Terra's pained expression and her precarious position on one foot before scooping her up in his arms. Cyborg hastily checked Bumblebee for injuries, wrapping his flesh arm around her when he found nothing.

"We've got to leave!" Beast Boy said, his voice and his grip strong. "There's no telling who that insane viscount will shoot next!" Terra and Bumblebee turned to stare at the man in shock.

"_Robin_ shot Starfire?" Terra whispered. Beast Boy's face fell as he looked at the woman he held in his arms. He swallowed hard and nodded once. "But—Madame Dolan went to find Starfire! Robin's _with_ her! We have to stop him!"

"No!" Beast Boy replied. "You can barely walk! I don't want him attacking you!"

"But we've got to make sure that Starfire's all right!" Terra protested. "Please, Garfield!" Beast Boy faltered, eyes blinking as he thought. After a moment, he looked at Cyborg.

"Victor?" he asked. "Do you think you and I can stop him?"

"You won't be the one that stops him," Bumblebee murmured. "Madame Dolan isn't going to let him hurt Starfire any more than he has already. If she _knew_—good lord." The blood rushed from her face. She pulled away from Cyborg slightly, looking at her fiancée's eyes. "I'll follow them. I know my way around the lower levels."

"But there's still the Opera Ghost!" Beast Boy said. "There's no telling what could happen to you!"

"I have to do this," Bumblebee said quietly. "Victor—please let me go. I'll be all right." Cyborg studied the young woman's eyes before sighing and releasing her.

"Be careful," he whispered. Bumblebee smiled and stood on her toes, pressing a swift kiss against Cyborg's lips. She turned and ran across the stage, vanishing from sight. Cyborg turned quickly to Beast Boy and Terra. "Come on. We need to get you to a doctor."

----------

"Raven, open your eyes." Raven did as she was told and found herself kneeling on the floor of her parlor. She felt an arm wrapped around her shoulder and turned to look.

"Kali?" she asked blearily. The gray-haired woman tilted her head, scowling at the blood pulsing from the wound in Raven's stomach. Her arm rose from Raven's shoulder, her hand roaming over the masked woman's back.

"Dammit," she snarled. "The bullet's still in your body. Lie down—I need to get it out."

"I need to heal Koriand'r," Raven said in return, her gaze falling on the young woman's prone body. She pulled the mask from her face, tossing it aside. Beads of sweat had pooled uncomfortably under the mask, and she needed to concentrate completely. Raven put Starfire's hand on the floor gently, moving to hold her hands above the wound in her side. Before she could think of the spell she needed, Kali took hold of her wrists.

"You won't be able to heal yourself," she said. "I can only get the bullet out of you—I don't know any healing spells." Raven smiled weakly.

"I'll be all right," she murmured. Kali let go of her wrists, and Raven nodded at her. As she closed her eyes, she forced her breathing to become deep and regular. Her hands were surrounded by white light, and she pressed them gently over the wound. The flesh knitted together, blood was restored, and Starfire's breathing calmed from shallow gasps to soft, even breaths.

The glow around Raven's hands faded, and she opened her eyes. Her skin was bathed in sweat, and her eyes were dim and unfocused. She began to pitch forward, but Kali took hold of her shoulders and laid her on her back next to Starfire. Starfire's eyes fluttered open, and she sat up slowly. She turned her head and gasped at the sight of Raven half-conscious and wounded. When she reached out for the other woman, hands closed on her wrists and she looked up at Kali.

"Don't," Kali murmured. "I need to take the bullet out of her, and I don't want you to move her from where she is." Starfire stared at the gray-haired woman in confusion, tears appearing in her eyes.

"But—"

"No," Kali said. She let go of Starfire's wrists. "What I need for you to do is to find something that's clean—a towel or a sheet." Starfire looked at Raven's face once more before scrambling to her feet and rushing out of the room. Kali looked back to Raven and sighed. With hardly a thought, she tore a strip from Raven's shirt to expose her stomach. The wound was ugly, but Kali could see the glint of blood-smeared metal. She grimaced, but felt relief. Unaware that Starfire had returned, she reached for Raven's stomach.

Starfire stared as Kali's hand passed through Raven's flesh as if it were the hand of a ghost. After a moment, Raven's body jerked, and Kali pulled her fisted hand away. She opened her hand, looking at the bloody bullet. With a sigh, she tossed it aside and looked up. Starfire blinked and strode forward, kneeling down and pressing down on the wound with the sheet.

"You're a demon as well?" she asked.

"Yes," Kali said simply. Starfire let out a wavering breath, pressing slightly harder. "Are you angry with us?"

"I'm only confused," Starfire replied. "Raven promised to explain everything after the opera." A pale, long-fingered hand was gently laid on Starfire's, and the young woman found Raven's open eyes on her face.

"I intend to keep that promise," Raven whispered.

"Wait until you've been healed," Kali said tersely. Raven shook her head.

"I'll be fine," she said. She turned her eyes back to Starfire. "You deserve to know."

----------

"Shouldn't we be preparing for traps?" The question echoed in the wide corridor, but Chaos did not answer. Robin continued to follow her, sweat running down his back. They had been running through the lower levels for the past ten minutes, and Chaos had been absolutely silent. Robin's breath grew progressively more labored, his chest aching terribly.

"We're chasing after—a demon!" he panted. "She must have—set some kind of trap!" Chaos still did not reply. Robin scowled, but continued to hold one hand at the level of his eyes. He had seen the damage done by the black lasso, and knew the single method to disarm such a weapon. He would feel no remorse if Chaos fell prey to the Phantom. Regret would only be stirred in him if Chaos died before guiding him to Starfire.

----------

"My father was the demon Trigon," Raven murmured, her eyes half-closed. "He raped my—the woman who gave birth to me. When I was born, she tried to kill me."

"Your mother?" Starfire whispered. Her voice was low not with shock, but with the effort of remembering where she had heard such a tale before. Raven let out a breath and shook her head slightly.

"That woman wasn't my mother," she explained. "The woman who saved me and raised me is who I call my mother." Her eyes turned to look at Starfire's face and the confused expression thereupon. "You know her, Starfire. She's probably told you this once before." Starfire's eyes widened and her head rose. She looked from Raven to Kali and back again.

"Madame Dolan is your mother?" she asked.

"And my teacher." The statement brought back another memory that would have knocked Starfire from her feet had she been standing.

"Madame Dolan was the demon in the graveyard?" she asked, her voice strained. "All this time—she's been like a mother—she _lied_ to all of us?" Kali put a hand on Starfire's shoulder, and the young woman looked at her with wide eyes.

"She's never lied about how she feels," Kali said gently.

"Why should I believe you?" Starfire demanded. "You've lied just as much as her!"

"Koriand'r." Starfire bit her lip and looked at Raven desperately, her eyes stinging. "Kei does not lie about how she feels. She may mask her anger at times, but she has never lied about caring for people." Starfire swallowed hard, her head falling.

"I've always trusted her," she muttered. "And I've trusted _you_, Madame Kali."

"You can still trust us," Kali said. "We've always wanted you to be happy."

"What about the other girls?" Starfire asked. "The managers?" Kali chuckled, and the warmth of it belied the coldness of her words.

"We've wanted them to be happy as well," she replied. "The people we've wanted unhappy are already dead. And those that are still alive will suffer."

----------

Robin all but fell into the gondola, his legs shaking terribly as he stumbled from the dock. He had no chance to settle comfortably in the gondola before Chaos had untied the mooring, picked up the oar, and pushed them away into the dark lake. As he huddled panting in the bottom of the boat, he closed his eyes and massaged his chest. Had he looked up at Chaos, he would have found that she was anything but weary. No sweat had gathered on her skin, and her breathing was even. Her face remained drawn and her eyes unreadable.

It took a bare minute to reach the island in the center of the lake. Chaos threw aside the oar and leapt from the gondola, running to the open door of the house. Robin struggled from the boat, hurrying after her as well as he could. He followed the light to the parlor, leaning against the doorframe when he arrived. For a moment, he could only stand and stare.

The scene before him did not equal what he believed was the truth. He did not understand why Starfire was attending to the wounds of the demon that lay on the floor, much less how she even brought herself to touch the body of a creature with such an abhorrent face. He had believed that such a wound would break the demon's concentration on the spell that bound Starfire. There was even less of an explanation for Kali's presence, and so he took a step into the room to demand answers.

Had he arrived at the room sooner, or had he bothered to look about for Chaos, what happened might not have come as such a surprise. As it stood, however, he did not see Chaos burst into the room with wide, terrified eyes immediately falling on Starfire and Raven. He did not see the shock on her face fade away into a rage that only Kali had seen before. He saw none of this, and so walked into the room without worry.

Chaos spun about on one heel, her other foot rising to smash against Robin's face. He rose into the air, but did not go very far. Chaos grabbed the man's ankles as they came up in the air and, using her momentum, slammed him into the wall. The wall crumbled, and Chaos pulled him from the wreckage. She flung him down to the floor hard enough to crack the stone, slamming her foot down on his chest. Wheezing and coughing, Robin opened an eye only to stare in horror.

"You _had_ to shoot my daughters," Chaos snarled. Her mouth was twisted in a fang-baring sneer, and the voice that emerged from behind those fangs was a rasp echoed by the crackle of flames. Her six eyes were filled with red light. "You've pushed your luck too many times, viscount." She lifted her foot and stomped down, snapping the same two ribs that she had broken in the graveyard nearly four months ago. He howled with pain, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball.

"Listen closely, boy." Chaos crouched down and gathered the front of Robin's tattered shirt in one hand. She slid him across the floor and slammed his back against the wall. As he sat panting for breath, she lifted his chin with a clawed finger. "The only reason I haven't killed you is the simple fact that Starfire doesn't hate you enough to want you dead. If it wasn't for her, I'd never have taken you from the mirror room—and you'd be nothing more than a pile of ash."

"Release—the girl," Robin panted. Chaos slammed the man against the wall once more before giving up her hold of his shirt. She stood up and strode to where Raven lay on the floor. "Release—the girl!" Chaos ignored him and knelt down next to Raven. When she looked up at Starfire, her face was calm, and she had only two eyes that did not shine with red light.

"I'm sorry, Koriand'r," she murmured. "I didn't mean to show you _or_ Raven this." She gently pushed Starfire's hands away and lifted the blood-soaked sheet. At the sight of the wound, she smiled faintly at Raven. "You used all your energy healing Starfire, didn't you?" Raven nodded, too weary to speak. Chaos sighed and laid a hand over the wound. It healed in an instant, and the sickly pallor in Raven's skin vanished.

"I order you to release Starfire!" Chaos turned about, eyes multiplying and glowing red. She stood up and faced Robin, who stood slumped against the broken wall. His skin was covered with sweat, and his eyes were narrowed. "Release her!"

"What makes you think we're holding her against her will?" Raven asked. She slowly pushed herself up from the floor, arms shaking. Starfire quickly steadied her, pulling one of Raven's arms around her shoulders for support. Robin stared as the two women stood up together, every movement aiding the other. He saw nothing but clarity in Starfire's eyes, and faltered under the coolness of the gaze she turned on him.

"I'm not under a spell," she said.

"You are!" he gasped. "You were—you should have chosen _me_!"

"I would never fall in love with a person that treated me as an object," Starfire replied. "I don't love you, monsieur. I love my fiancée." She turned to Raven and smiled at her. "I love Raven." She laid her hand on Raven's cheek and leaned to her, pressing a kiss against her lips.

Robin could only stare. He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, unable to find anything to say. When Raven and Starfire parted, he closed his mouth tightly and bowed his head. He drew in a breath through his nose, ignoring the pain of his battered body.

"Are you going to kill me now?" he asked quietly.

"No," Chaos replied after a moment. "I'll kill you only if you try to follow us. Leave, monsieur le Vicomte." Robin scowled and shuffled from the little house. He clambered back into the gondola, finding the strength for one good hard shove toward the opposite shore before collapsing.

Bumblebee arrived on the edge of the lake when the gondola drifted up to the shore. She found Robin lying unconscious in the bottom of the boat and looked across the lake. For a brief moment, she saw Kali, Chaos, Starfire, and Raven standing together outside the house on the island. A flash of black fire surrounded them, and Bumblebee blinked. When she opened her eyes, the fire had faded, and the four women had vanished.

—_to be concluded—_


	15. Epilogue

The Phantom of the Opera: Epilogue

Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.

A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.

The Paris Opera House closed after the premiere of _Don Juan Triumphant_. The public was too frightened by the presence of demons to demand refunds from the opera, and the employees had quit en masse after the discovery of the bodies of Jinx, Malchior, and the charred remains of Monsieur le Blood. The battered condition of le Vicomte de Wayne when he and Bumblebee emerged from the lower levels only fueled the haste of the Opera House's closing.

Beast Boy and Cyborg remained close friends and continued to conduct business as partners. They went into the automotive business and made a massive profit when the demand for automobiles skyrocketed. Cyborg's cars were considered the height of luxury and fashion in Paris, and Beast Boy was able to create his long dreamt of moped. The closeness of the two men was also done partly to please their wives, as Bumblebee and Terra felt a distinct need to keep their friendship intact.

Bumblebee never told a soul of what she had seen the night _Don Juan_ was performed, only quietly telling Terra that Starfire was all right. She did not know precisely what she had seen, and so she did not assume to understand everything. What she knew was that Starfire had a smile on her face before she disappeared, and so she did not fear for her friend. She and Terra led happy lives with their husbands.

Robin could not claim the same type of happiness. He left Paris immediately after regaining consciousness. He hid himself away in America, taking on the same reclusive, philanthropic lifestyle of Bruce Wayne. When Wayne died, Robin inherited the title of count. He never answered any questions about his life in Paris, and refused to listen to music of any kind for years. Theaters were anathema to him.

He could not explain why he returned to Paris when he heard of the Opera House's grand reopening. He did not know what drew him to the auction, nor did he understand why he purchased the Opera Ghost's mask.

Le Comte de Wayne walked away from the Opera House, the mask still clutched tightly in his hand. His swift pace soon slowed to a half-hearted meandering, and he lifted the mask to examine it. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the flow of people around him. It was little wonder that someone ran straight into him as he stood there, but he managed to keep his feet.

"I'm sorry!" the young woman said. "I didn't mean to run into you like that." Robin meant to give the young woman an apology of his own, but he found himself unable to breathe when he looked at her face. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and her hair was long and beautifully red. She was the picture of youth, dressed prettily in a violet dress and wrapped in an indigo cloak. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she spoke of her eagerness to see the Opera House before it opened again.

"You'll be able to see it as much as you like," another woman said. Robin's stare moved to the woman with long black hair and dark blue eyes. She wore a femininely cut suit and an indigo cloak to match the other woman's, and a black fedora sat fashionably on her head. She smiled at the red-haired woman, taking her left hand. Robin stared at the gold ring on the red-haired woman's hand, blinking when the dark-eyed woman looked at him. She raised an eyebrow slowly, but gave the red-haired woman another smile.

"Go on, Koriand'r," she said. "I'll be along soon. Tell my mother not to worry." The red-haired woman smiled and hurried away, never sparing Robin a second glance. The dark-eyed woman turned to Robin, and he backed slowly away from her. She followed him into the alleyway he shuffled into, moving swiftly to force him against a wall. "How many years has it been, monsieur?"

"You can't be her," Robin whispered. His chest was burning with pain, his heart pounding irregularly. "It's been fifty years. You _can't_ be her."

"It's remarkable how easy it was to give her a long lifespan," the woman murmured. "She'll live as long as I do now, and she'll look as lovely as she was the day the spell was cast."

"You're not," Robin said desperately. "You're _not_." He clutched at his chest, his vision blurring. The woman smiled at him and swept the hat from her head. She took the mask from his trembling hand and laid it over her face. Robin felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest and fought for one last breath. His body slumped against the wall and slid slowly to the ground, the visage of the Phantom eternally burned upon his unblinking gaze.

Raven put her hat back on her head, tucking the mask in a pocket within her cloak. It would make an interesting conversation piece at the Opera House, should any of the _corps de ballet_ under Starfire's tutelage visit their teacher in the room she and Raven shared. She strode out of the alleyway, walking swiftly down the avenue. It wouldn't do for the Opera House to open its doors once again without its new conductor, and the managers Mesdames Dolan and Kali were quite peculiar about punctuality.

—_end—_


End file.
